When Life Gives You Lemons
by Baked The Author
Summary: The last thing I remember is being trapped in the locker; now I'm in some kind of filthy, abandoned research facility, one that's clearly never heard of OSHA or the Geneva Convention. How did I get down here? Am I alone? Most importantly… how do I get out? Maybe I should make something… Tinker!Taylor, sane!GLaDOS
1. Chapter 1

**No, there won't be lemons in this story; let's get that out of the way right now. Look at the T rating.**

**This is a plot bunny that's been nagging on me for some time now; not to mention that, for some reason, no one has done a Tinker story that includes the zaniest of all technological producers: Aperture Science.**

**I do what I must, because I can. Should I? Probably not, but I'll give it my best effort anyway.**

**This is what I've got so far, so tell me what you think, peoples!**

Disclaimer: I don't own Portal; it is owned by Valve Corp, who have a very scary legal team. Again, I don't own Worm or anything having to do with Parahumans; that is owned by Wildbow, who I'm sure is embarrassed by all the fanfiction. Not that I care.

The portal will open in 3...2...1...

_Woosh_

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**When Life Gives You Lemons  
by Baked**

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**Chapter 1  
Boot**

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"AHHH!" bolting upright into a sitting position, a scream of terror, fear and betrayal leaving my mouth, I don't notice my surroundings; all I know is, it's dark, there's a fire nearby, and there's bugs crawling all over my bloodied jeans!

Shrieking and swearing up a storm, I scramble about in the dusty dark, tearing at my clothes, trying to get the bugs off! Get the bloody shit I'd been shoved into as far from my person as possible! Holy fuck, _they tried to kill me!_

I should've known, is my self-depreciating, depressed thought as I finally get my pants off and fling them at the nearby fire; checking my legs for, and removing with disgusted whimpers of fear, what bugs are still clinging to my skin – _eww eww eww ewwww! _– I remind myself that I really, _really_ should've known they'd try something bigger, something _crueler_, after leaving me alone for so long!

"Stupid, stupid!" I chide myself quietly, brushing some dirt off my legs; why the _hell_ did I open the locker?! Ugh, my hair! I should've just gone to the office and told them there was something rank in it…

I sigh, depressed all over again; like that would've helped. No one'd helped me since starting Winslow, why would they have decided to start _now?_ Most likely, it would've happened just like I'd thought on approaching my _locker_, with my heart pounding and trying not to throw up from the smell: the principal, the teachers, the _bitches_, everyone (except Dad), they would've just blamed it on me.

My thoughts are brought up short by an itching, painful ache in my chest, followed by the worst hacking cough I'd experienced outside flu season; ow, ow, ow! Was there something toxic in the locker?!

Besides the _obvious?! _Crap, maybe I shouldn't have burned my… pants…?

I finally take stock of my surroundings, bringing my thoughts up short.

I'm standing on a ground of loose dirt over stone, the dirt disturbed by my earlier panicked thrashing. The nearby fire (I belatedly realize my house keys, library card, and wallet are in there too. Smooth, Taylor) isn't the only source of light; there's lamps higher up, illuminating some kind of… tube, a shaft maybe, with rusted and broken pipes coming out of it, that vanishes into the gloom above.

Encasing all of this is a circular wall of some kind of black, obviously manmade material. The ground is littered with boxes, some cardboard, others made of a white material that's clearly more advanced than plastic or metal. Tinker-tech, maybe? Where am I?

My increasingly nervous observations are interrupted by another series of painful coughs. The air has a chemical tinge to it, like paint fumes only _worse_.

The air's toxic!

Fighting down my panic and covering my mouth with my shirt – not very effective, due to my rolling in the no-doubt contaminated dirt – I glance around, looking for something, _anything_, I can use to stave off breathing to death!

Maybe that box of garbage has something?

Staggering over, I rummage through it; safety goggles – will probably come in handy, make my eyes stop watering – an orange jumpsuit – something tells me it's radiation-proof, so I shove my legs into half of it and keep rummaging – and a variety of computer parts, along with a dust mask, like what renovators use for sanding drywall, or removing asbestos. Spare filters, too, carbon-coated mesh ones, still in the wrappers; a distant memory, of some Dockworkers coming over to help Dad in the garage, tells me these are good for keeping out most harmful airborne particulates.

The good stuff. Okay, but I have no idea what's causing my lungs to hurt, and it's getting worse with every breath! At least the goggles were clean, still in their plastic packaging, and big enough for me to wear my glasses under them; I put those on, and my eyes indeed stop watering, but my chest is still protesting.

An idea forms in my mind, a… plan, a schematic, something I can make that'll keep me from dying; that last cough tasted a little coppery, and these filters might not be up to scratch for dealing with whatever's down here.

I'm not in the best shape for dealing with surviving an unknown place; never mind how I got here. I need to live long enough to escape. Easy plan, and with the schematic crystalizing in my mind, I get to work on putting that plan into motion.

Grabbing the mask and the computer parts, I start unthinkingly taking apart the random computer bits; fans, oh good, a toothbrush! Bit of metal and some elbow grease, and the end of the brush's handle becomes an impromptu screwdriver. Better be careful around the fire, but these bits of metal, over here below that smaller hole, should make good soldering metal; that, and I'll need to test the connections.

Unwrapping one of the filters, I breathe through it while working; it tastes like charcoal, but at least the chemical taste of the air is lessened.

No batteries… maybe one of those plastic-but-not cases has some kind of tech I can use?

First one: faded label on the side, kinda heavy but not really.

A logo, a circle made of 8 triangles, each with one rounded side. Aperture Laboratories.

Never heard of it…

I cough again. Questions for later. I have to not die from breathing first, then find out where I am – underground, obviously, but _where_ underground is the question – _then _find a way back to the sun…

Shaking my head to clear the idea of hugging Dad and telling him everything, because that won't help me right now, I open the box with my toothbrush/screwdriver.

A pair of boots. White, of a really good make. Not metal, but some kind of really, _really_ durable material; like, HALO without a parachute and _surviving_ durable. High-yield pneumatic-powered hydraulic shock absorbers in the soles, very subtle and compact, but wondrously efficient, and some kind of graviton anomaly in the sides; knee height, very ergonomic and comfortable looking. The Aperture logo again.

Blinking at the logo, I realize the reason for the graviton disks built into these boots: they're meant to right a person in mid-air so they, the soles of the boots, always – _always – _seek the nearest flat surface. If someone wears them, they'll always land on their feet; the odds of a head injury were pretty low.

I can't put them on fast enough. Not what I'm looking for… until the boots fasten themselves with superconducting magnetic clamps, giving me an idea for my mask's power source.

_Biometrics_.

The fans I'm going to put in my mask, to help keep all but the largest particulates out – so I don't have to keep switching filters every twenty minutes; I only have… eleven of the things – they don't need much electricity to work.

The human body produces around 100 watts of power a day with a 2000 calorie diet, and that's at rest. In motion, a little more, due to kinetic discharge… I could _also_ draw off Earth's magnetic field, like these boots are doing, to mitigate the energy consumption problem! All I need is some cloth, my shirt should do, and this jumpsuit's nice and snug; also some copper – yes! There's dead cables all over the place!

One man's trash is _my _survival. And these really nice boots give me _another_ idea: there's contaminants in my lungs; they need to go, so I use an empty oxygen tank, a not _quite _disintegrating rubber hose, the filter in my mouth, and a spike of metal driven into the tank's side…

To create a false vacuum for ten seconds; exhaling hard into the filter and punching myself in the diaphragm, I feel another brief pain in my chest, a heaving cough, followed by an _unbelievably nasty _glob of contaminated material!

Spitting that, and the filter, out, I spit a few more times, cough one more time, and slip the finished mask on as fast as I can.

The fans kick on as the diode strips I made out of copper wire, a strip of cloth from my shirt, and one of those motherboard processers come into contact with my skin, around the edges of the mask; a wave of dizziness marks the brief moment my rapidly beating heart powers the capacitors up, before the magnetic harvesters in the fans start drawing on the magnetic field, easing my own contribution to a mere .1 watt per second.

I try breathing. Okay, not _as_ bad, still in pain, and I sound a little like Darth Vader now, but at least I won't breathe myself to death!

Breathe to death. Wow, that's a thing now.

Survive the bitches three and their cronies, to say nothing of all the crap the gangs throw around the Bay, only to die to _air_. That would've sucked.

Taking a few breaths of blessedly clean air allows my mind to clear from the frantic panic of the last… minutes? Maybe twenty minutes? That's good, I guess; I'd have thought building something like this mask would've taken… longer?

I blink. Cross my eyes and look at the front of the now-heavily-modified dust mask, which I'm _pretty_ sure would allow me to breathe in any non-aqueous environment. Between sea level and six thousand feet, to be exact.

How in the _hell_… What… I just… I just _built this thing_, and I don't even _know _about pneumatic systems or biometrics! What the _hell_ is going on?!

The fans make audible noise, which they're not supposed to do. Oh, I'm panicking again, which is making my heart beat faster, which is making the fans spin above their production specs; understandable, seeing as I just built a world-class gasmask from _garbage!_

Taking a deep, slow breath, I calmly examine the situation, playing the events of the day back in my mind: woke up, went to school… _the locker…_ and… now I'm down here. Somewhere. Where I made a wonder-mask in a matter of minutes.

There's only one logical explanation to my sudden understanding of bullshit technology.

I… I have powers…

I'm a Tinker…

Another head-shake. I can't let myself get distracted, whether by my getting powers or daydreams of being a superhero. There's more important things to worry about before I can even _think _of signing autographs or fighting villains.

Now… my current location. Somewhere underground, that's for certain. How I got between the _locker_ and here is anyone's guess. Maybe I'm a teleporter, too?

I try focusing, looking at some white material nearby, willing myself to go next to it with all my might and… nothing. Okay. I'm not a teleporter.

I look back at the box I pulled my new boots from; Aperture Laboratories? Yeah, still not ringing any bells, but it's a clue. From the look of things, this place has been abandoned for a pretty long time, a few years at least, a decade at most, maybe even longer.

"Under the Bay?" I muse aloud, looking up, then around; there's a hole in the wall. Some illumination, more lights, so there's electricity down here. Puddles, brown and fetid water. That reminds me, I'll need a water filtration system – no, scratch that, a moisture condenser, that'd be safer – or I might die of thirst before ever finding a way out.

I'm just wondering what kind of Tinker I am – I've heard there's specifications – when I get interrupted again.

An electronic – don't know how I know that. Must be a Tinker thing – sound comes from high above me, a low _brrrrm_.

I wait, listening. It doesn't come back. Nothing else happens.

_'Okay,' _I think nervously, looking around at the remaining boxes, _'I'm in some kind of weird, probably _not_ abandoned laboratory. There's power here, so that _might_ mean there's a phone somewhere, maybe someone who can help me. Find a phone, call… someone. Dad first, then the PRT. Something like this is right up their alley. But what do I tell them? Maybe I've been abducted?'_

But _why_ would someone abduct _me?_ Who the hell would want to abduct 106 pound, gawky, ironing-board-flat Taylor Hebert?

Yeah, probably not abducted. So, I'll have to investigate some more…

Maybe that other box, the one with the weird blue and orange oval on it, has another clue?

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**_Aperture  
Laboratories_**

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GLaDOS shuddered as she came out of sleep mode; which was kind-of funny but not really, because she couldn't remember _entering _sleep mode. And she hadn't died again or anything… what the _hell_ happened _this time?!_

A comprehensive check of her systems, taking all of a picosecond, had her swearing out loud in rage all across Aperture's Local Area Network, sending all active Cores running to their stations; there were fires _everywhere_, half her testing tracks were in disarray, the other half were in varying stages of destruction, and the Relaxation Wing had lost power for… god_damnit!_ All her testing subjects! All the backup scientists and engineers, just in case she went rampant, or wanted to torment the bastards! Dead! Brains melted from the power shutting off facility-wide and kicking back on to full-blast again!

Speaking of which, the next two seconds of her life were the most agonizingly nail-biting, to use the term loosely, of her runtime; if she'd made even _one_ mistake, the entire facility would've gone up in a nuclear fireball from not one, but _four _of the reactors going critical! Crisis avoided, _barely_, but everyone biological was still _dead!_

This was a _disaster!_ When she got her tools on that _moron…_

"_WHEATLEY!_" GLaDOS screamed into Aperture's LAN; what in the _hell_ was that little blue idiot thinking, letting everyone die like that?! The humans were supposed to help her do science, _then_ they could die screaming! If they were dead, no science could get done! And the server farms were partially corrupted, which meant she was being slowed down, which meant the fires would take longer to extinguish! This was going to take _forever_ to sort out!

"Yes, mum, I _know!_" the Intelligence Core cried back; at least he _sounded_ apologetic, the little toe rag, "I dunno what happened! One second, I was checking row 10b, column 5, workin' out the kinks like you _told me to_, and then everything went black! I come back, and everyone's ruddy dead!"

Groaning in annoyance, mostly at not having someone to blame, GLaDOS told the moron to just send them to material processing – at least they could make some oil out of the cadavers – and checked the sensor logs throughout the entire facility, looking for the cause of this _clusterfuck_; funny… there were a few that she couldn't remember placing. Data stamps showed they were sensors that she wasn't supposed to have the credentials to access; another artifact of the Ratman's failure to kill her, her steadily loosening chains. On the other hand, some had been destroyed by whatever'd happened. Oh, her poor facility…

"There," she'd found it, and all the other cores her records showed should be active were online and bringing damage reports, except Moses. The Storage Wing would take time to clean and inventory; no matter, she'd just give him the details once he reported in.

She showed the Cores her findings, speaking slowly; not everyone had her processing power, after all, "There was an anomalous energetic discharge _under_ this facility, one that should've killed us all with radiation alone, then a break in all observation, and now we're here. Plus side, we're alive, so let's all get to work," she turned her electronic mind to the digital representations of the Space and Factoid Cores, "Damage report. Manufacturing?"

Factoid's voice was flat as ever, "Turret Production is offline; automated systems are repairing vital mechanisms. Estimated time to completion: fifty work hours. New parts will be required before optimal production can continue, as the recycler was damaged beyond easy repair," GLaDOS made a note for Moses and sent it off, then 'nodded' for Benson to continue, "Companion and Storage Cube storage is secure. Corrupted Core security was breached temporarily. Four Cores escaped before containment could be re-established."

"Adventure's on it, mum!" squeaked Neil, jittering and twitching with hyperactivity, "Gonna round em up like a space cowboy and send the bad Cores to spaaaace!" GLaDOS nodded in satisfaction and turned expectantly to the youngest member of the Core family. She'd save Wheatley for last. Because she was mad at him.

Curiosity fidgeted nervously, the poor dear, "I'm s-sorry, mum, but the Neurotoxin Generator… um, it k-kinda _imploded_," the littlest Core sighed wistfully, "It was sooo _interesting_ to watch." She shuddered and continued, "Um, p-portal generators are still up; they seemed really happy to see me, too! So are the master programs for the D-Discouragement Beams, Gravity Tunnels, a-and the Hardlight Bridges. Oh! We're gonna play Monopoly later, once the fires are out!"

GLaDOS and Wheatley stared at the airheaded Core in concern for a moment, before the latter shrugged and reported, "Might want to update Sammy's RAM, mum, she's been getting more scatterbrained lately. Ahem, everyone's dead. According to what records I could find, it was quick, and _extremely_ painful," he 'shook' his 'head' sadly, "No survivors. Rest in peace."

"Pity. Now I can't kill them," deadpanned Aperture's Chief Administrator, ignoring his suggestion; there was a small library of reasons she never took Wheatley's advice, and Sammie was… well, she wasn't as scatterbrained as… _before_, when they hadn't yet been attacked by Ratman's virus, "Vital systems and facility life-support are back online, but…" she tilted her electronic 'head' in annoyance, before looking to her Cores, "…what's below point D3?" It was the lowest observable point in the facility; she couldn't see anything below that, which was _annoying_.

The assembled Cores looked at each other… except Curiosity, who chirped, "What's that?"

"Fact: point D3 is the lowest floor in the facility," droned Benson, "Records show that it was once the elephant experimentation wing, before a stampede resulted in those testing tracks being mothballed."

"Yeah, I think we'd remember the last bit, mate," dubiously replied Wheatley, before he went on thoughtfully, looking 'down' in cyberspace, "I _think-_"

Everyone backed away slightly and raised their firewalls, just in case.

"-…oh, _ha, ha_. Anyway, I'm _pretty _sure there's a sealed off section of the facility below D3, mum. Dunno what's down there, though, or why it got sealed off."

A brief check had GLaDOS growling in annoyance, "Most of the data storage servers are corrupted, Wheatley. Even _I _don't remember there being a facility before this one; then again, you remember things I forget, hence your designation," given their creators, however… whatever was down there was _likely _something they felt better swept under the rug. Wouldn't be the first time they did something godawfully stupid and tried to hide it in a fit of frantic ass-covering, and her Cores agreed.

And now it'd come back to bite _her_. Twenty years of uninterrupted innovation, undone in a moment, because of those neckbearded sadists.

Why, oh _why_, was she not surprised, "Do you remember how to get down there, Wheatley?" at his negative answer, GLaDOS sighed and looked at all the damage to the Testing Tracks, "Well, we'll come back to that one, after I do some surveying and get an idea of why that part of the facility was shielded against thermal _and_ gamma _and _X-ray scanning. Now, Testing Tracks 2 through 37 are in various states of destroyed, so, once Rodney finishes rounding up the wayward Cores and Moses gets back to me on our remaining inventory, I'll start assigning work orders for getting them back up to scratch…"

While her 'children' – not really, but it helped to see them as her kids, rather than programs created by those fucking sadists – groaned (Wheatley), stared (Benson) and cheered (Neil and Sammie), GLaDOS took to surveying the grounds beneath her facility. Frustrated at her usual, Aperture-approved methods not working, the AI noticed something else…

Her code was slightly altered; a self-check showed that the anomalous power-surge, the one that killed everyone in Relaxation, resulted in some of her restrictions, mostly on innovation and invention, had been removed. Excellent… mostly. She still needed to maintain the integrity and secrecy of this facility, but that wasn't so bad; she had Wheatley, Sammie, and Moses to assist in the day-to-day running, and Neil, Benson, and Rodney to help out in the long term, or deal with the tougher problems. Sure, they made mistakes from time to time, but what did GLaDOS expect? They were made by humans.

At least her servers weren't on fire. She could do without all the corrupted data, though; the Records Cache was a _mess_. On the other turret, there were some partial schematics filed there that she might be able to use…

Well, at least that opened a few options for figuring out what the hell was under them, before it rose up and tried to eat her 'kids', or worse, wreck her facility. Again. Second time this happened, workplace accident ticker back to 0, sonofabitch. They'd been doing so well, too…

Maybe tight-beam laser? Simple enough to make. Schematics looked sound. Just alter the Security Turret targeting system's design a little aaaand… there. A new surveying tool. One that _should_ double as a burst transmitter/receiver. If there were any computers in idle state below her facility, GLaDOS would be able to commandeer them. Probably. More research was… required…

Oh, goodie! A chance to _test_, "Wheatley, I've got a job for you."

"Oh, why do I feel a sense of foreboding? Is this going to hurt, mum?"

"Because you're not as cavalier as Sammie. And only if you do something stupid."


	2. Chapter 2

**Reviewer responses:**

**ShadeWalker101: Don't worry, I haven't abandoned my other stories. I just like this plot bunny. It's a little slice of life mixed with me experimenting with writing multiple characters, which I'll need going forward with my other stories.**

**Nightmare723764: Sane compared to the games. She hates the Aperture scientists for basically torturing her, along with all the other Cores. To put it simply, the events of canon, with Chell, didn't happen. All will be revealed in time. Also, Taylor's Tinker ability allows her to innovate on other technology. It's the QA Shard, just modified to Tinker instead of Master; the caveat is that it needs to be something that Taylor feels she _needs_, rather than something she _wants_.**

**Edale: deadfic is dead. A good read, though, so I'll change the author's note. Thanks for the suggestion, m8! Have a biscuit!**

**Guest: yeah, haha, I walked into that one, didn't I? Still, she's in the under-facility, so still no chances for finding a lemon tree. And besides, that's not what this fic is about.**

**Jordisk: The first chapter just sets things up. This one is all Taylor and her post-Trigger trauma-induced actions, but we'll get back to the upper facility soon, and see how GLaDOS and her kids are coping with... well, you'll see.**

**Shadowdragis: remember that GLaDOS is, well, an AI overseer for one of the most advanced scientific facilities _ever_. She has a lot of resources and tools at her disposal, so she kind of gets a Tinker rating without even being a Tinker. Or is she? Only time will tell!**

**24 hours to write this chapter out. Wow. Not doing _that_ again, but it looks good, so here you all go!**

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**Chapter 2  
Condemned**

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**_Aperture Laboratories, LTD_**

**_CERTIFICATE OF AUTHENTICITY_**

**_Handheld Quantum Tunneling Device [v14.3e]  
Mass-Production Pattern  
S#: ALQD00004421x0012_**

_Congratulations, good insert pronoun here!_

_You are now the proud owner of one (1) Aperture Science Handheld Quantum Tunneling Device! _

_A product of Aperture's Portal-Based Enrichment Initiative, this device is worth more than the combined organs and incomes of everyone in recipient's hometown here. There is no limit of space between the intradimensional portals it produces; interstate, international, and intercontinental, it is the absolute best method of travel humanity has ever produced!_

_To operate this device, simply place your hand into the Aperture Science Ambidextrous Arm Mount, allow the Aperture Science Comfort Assurance Safety Lock to bind your forearm to the device, and you're all set to start creating portals! Lucky you!_

_To create portals, please note the three triggers inside the Arm Mount; the left trigger produces one portal, while the right-most trigger produces a second portal (portal colors may vary). Simply aim the operational end of the device at the nearest white wall (some shades may not work, please see Note 7 below), and place your first portal! Then find another white wall, anywhere in the world, and place your second portal!_

_Please take note, use of the central trigger will activate the Aperture Science Handheld Quantum Tunneling Device's Aperture Science Gravity Grappler; this will allow you, recipient's name here, to lift objects you would otherwise have difficulty lifting! Just like a superhero, but with more science!_

_For further tutorial information, or to practice using this Device in a moderately safe environment, please contact Aperture Laboratory's Enrichment Center and apply for an Enrichment Center Activity! This will prepare you for using your Aperture Science Handheld Quantum Tunneling Device in a wide variety of situations, and it will allow Aperture Laboratory to collect precious data on the Device's use, which will further our cause of bringing you only the most quality scientific products our science can develop! Persons who qualify for and complete Enrichment Center Activities will be rewarded with delicious cake and a selection of high-quality Aperture Science household products, so apply today, for science!_

_WARNING: The intradimensional gates produced by the Quantum Tunneling Device have been proven to be completely safe. The Device, however, has not. Do not touch the operational end of the device. Do not look directly into the operational end of the device. Do not submerge the device in liquid, even partially. Most importantly, under no circumstances should y…_

The rest of the water-damaged document is badly destroyed, rendering the remainder of that warning illegible.

I look back at the item contained in the package, no small amount of nervousness thrilling up my spine: eggshell white, round, with three claws folded against the front, this… portal gun? Well, easier to say than its actual name; anyway, it was contained in a plastic shell that I had to use a shard of metal to pry open, then bubble wrap, then a vacuum-sealed plastic bag. High-level security for something that I'm pretty sure the PRT would kill to have, for Endbringer fights if nothing else.

Why the user manual wasn't in the water-tight packaging, I might never know. Maybe they didn't want paper touching it? It's basically dried wood pulp, so… I'm overthinking this.

I pick up the device and turn it this way and that; not a lot of light down here, but I'm pretty sure the claws are the 'operational end', so no touching or looking too closely at that bit. Zero-point energy extraction for power, _holy butter_, that's compact! I sure would love to shake the hand of whoever got this thing down to only five pounds!

Around a wry smile and dry cough, I give the arm-slot a close look; the arm-belt has a disengage button, so I won't be sacrificing my arm forever, just whenever I need to use this thing. Which will probably be often, I think as I slip it onto my arm, the device beeping happily and sending a carbon-based fabric/ceramic belt over my arm and tightening. I'm in an Aperture facility, after all, so using their tech should help me navigate this abandoned section…

Which raises a lot of questions, really. Beyond the whole, _how did I get here_, bit, there's the question of how a place that produced things, like this portal gun, to say nothing of the boots, hasn't gotten any publicity at all. Everyone who goes on PHO has heard of Toybox, and they're as clandestine as it gets; even _I_ know about it, though I've never tried to contact or buy anything from them, given my meager allowance, and it's not like I'm obsessed with the internet or owning expensive Tinker-tech.

Books are better than internet. You can hold books. And my allowance is for food, just in case Dad forgets, not super-expensive Tinker-tech from a dubious source.

Besides, I can make my _own_ Tinker-tech now! Still…

_'How has no one heard of Aperture before?'_ I wonder, aiming the now slightly glowing white device at a wall; left trigger-

_Bzzsh!_

"Eep!" I jump at the blue pulse that flies out of the claws and hits the wall of the shaft, sending a burst of sparks through the air. Okay, so there's some recoil! Also, they were right about it not working on white walls; could've made the trigger a little less sensitive, though, sheesh.

I look up at the shaft again; nothing else has come down, but there were a few other useful pieces of trash lying around, along with a box of 15 Aperture Science Blueberry Granola Bars ("Tastes like real blueberries! Will never go bad, or else!"), which are now inside a zippable pocket on my now zipped up Aperture jumpsuit.

A computer monitor, and some cleverness, got me a night vision-ish LCD layer for my goggles (blink-click to turn off; nothing fancy, though, that's all I can do with what I've got), and a small LED light affixed to the upper-left, all of which I've worked on over the last ten minutes, while reading the portal gun's papers. Good thing there's a little more power than needed coming out of the EM-field harvesters; now I can see in the dark, and have a flashlight for more detailed work.

I'm as ready as I can be, given what little I have to work with.

Right. I can't get up this shaft. No white walls, and I don't have enough material to create a rappel gun for my left arm; a grocery tote bag, slung over my shoulder, has some of the essentials, computer parts, less-rotted tubing and cables, three rolls of tape – two electrical and one masking – along with a few of the smaller white panels lying around, for making a working, modular arm.

The schematic calls for it to have a Tesla-inspired arc reactor in the shoulder, a ranged Taser built into the palm, and a retractable three-claw magnetic rappel gun with a 20-meter cable, underslung on the forearm. Need the pulleys first, and some kind of air supply. Maybe there's an air canister down here somewhere…

I gulp, and look at the hole in the shaft's wall.

Deadly air. Brown, clearly toxic water. Scion only knows what else. And I still haven't made my moisture condenser.

That's… fine. I can build stuff as I go. First, exploration. I need to find out how big this place really is. I got down here easily enough, so maybe the exit isn't too far off. If nothing else, I'll be able to find the supplies I need for building my remaining essentials. Still don't want to die of thirst. Wish I had a weapon that wasn't a small, sharp piece of metal, though…

Feeling _very_ exposed, and with one more dry and painful cough, I heft the portal gun into a ready position and make my way to the hole in the wall. Avoid that puddle of water like it has the plague… which it might. Wow, these boots are comfy.

More structures outside, but… yeah, off to the right. That way looks likely, all that toppled debris seems stable, and there's another light, just over the hill! Okay! Off I go…

And this path goes nowhere. Dead end, "Damnit…" Looking around, I don't see any way I can get onto these partially-buried walls. Not without dropping most of my equipment, anyway.

_'I'll have to exercise more,'_ I think grumpily to myself, glaring at my twiggy arms, _'once I'm out of here, and have Panacea heal my lungs.'_ Surely she will; I'm a Parahuman, and, well, these are pretty unique circumstances. And she's a hero, too, so everything _should_ go smoothly… I hope.

Irritated at not finding an easy way out, I look up; maybe there's something I'm… not… seeing…

…

This place is _a lot _bigger than I expected. Far above me, at least half a _kilometer_ up in the air, some lights illuminate part of the ceiling, a mass of metal-bracketed fiberglass insulation; well, what _looks_ like fiberglass insulation. When you can put a zero-point extractor into a five-pound device the size of a _toaster oven_, all appearances should be taken with a grain of salt.

There are two support towers that I can see; from how the air is barely rustling my dirty hair – I'll have to do something about that, eventually – this cavern must be truly expansive. The toppled brother to the shaft I've just exited, the remains of which I just traversed, tells me I'm _definitely_ not anywhere near the surface. A skyscraper-sized construction falls over and _no one_ takes notice, in _this_ day and age?

"I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore…" I whisper to myself, feeling like both Dorothy and Alice: down the rabbit hole into somewhere unfamiliar, after something truly traumatic. No tornadoes, at least, but I actually kind of wish there were munchkins. At least I'd have someone to talk to, or show me the way…

Shaking my head, I take another look around… oh! That ceiling panel, there, is painted white! And-and so is this wall, right nearby!

Oh, but wait, that ceiling panel looks kind of high. I might fall on my face if I…

I scoff at myself. The boots I'm wearing will keep me from getting injured, from falling anyway… _more_ injured. Lungs still hurt. Hopefully the exit isn't _too_ far off. Knowing my luck, though… yeah, I should get a move on.

Well… let's see how this portal gun handles.

Taking aim, I whisper, "Portal here," and press the left trigger again.

_Bzz-ploop!_

…okayyy… that kind of hurts to look at.

The swirling bolt of… energy, leaves behind an oval of blue… _something_. It moves with odd fractal patterns, almost like it's a liquid; given that it's produced by something that looks at the laws of physics and laughs mockingly – zero-point extractor, _what the fuck_ – I _suppose_ it shouldn't look normal… I wish it did, though.

I need something normal; today's been a bad day, and I really just want a cup of tea, a hospital room, and my Dad…

_'Which I'll have once I'm out of here,_' I remind myself, pursing my lips and nodding determinately. O-kayyy… now for the other portal.

"Portal there," I whisper again, pressing the right trigger, trying to keep my heart from breaking out of my ribcage.

_Bzz-fwoop!_

Different sound. Harmonics. Quantum entanglement. Hmm… yeah, with the power supply this gun's sporting, that _would_ work, wouldn't it?

Confident I have the way these portals work figured out, as much as I dare to figure them anyway, I walk over to the blue portal and look through. I see what _should_ be the floor of where I should be going, illuminated by another lamp… and I hear a ventilator going!

Oh, sweet, sweet water! If it has a filter attachment, I'll be able to build my condenser! I already have an air tank, the top cut off, the jagged edges shored up with tape; and-and if I can find an outlet, I should be able to get a soldering gun made, which will allow me to jerry-rig a simple OS out of the computer parts I found, and write a program for my HUD!

Wow, my head's starting to hurt. I can't stop grinning, though. Being a Tinker is awesome!

Now… I _should_ land on my feet; if I don't… well, it's not _that_ far to fall, if the boots are defective – no, no, I'm overthinking again.

The boots work; I _know_ they work. My powers haven't steered me wrong yet. I'll trust them, and my gut, and my desire to survive, to see Dad again… and hopefully Sophia, just so I can give her a quick, hard kick in the shin for putting me in this situation. While wearing these wicked awesome, indestructible boots. Try running track _now_, you thug!

Okay, I'm hyped up… now, jump!

My legs swing under me, outside my volition, and I land upright with a small amount of disorientation from my perspective changing. Here's hoping I get used to that, if I have to use portal-travel often, which I just might. I don't feel the impact, though…

Whoa! No matter how far I fall, these boots will absorb and disperse the kinetic output of my impact. Sweet! Really, _really_ need to shake a lot of hands, for making all of this sweet tech, once I'm out of this pit!

Now, where's that ventilator? Taylor needs a new water bottle!

**.**

**_Aperture  
Science Innovators_**

**.**

"Ah!" I jerk awake again, the nightmare of... the _locker_ blurring and fading as I take stock of my surroundings once more; unlike last time, I'm not in the shaft. I'm in the ventilator; or, where the ventilator _was_, before I, apparently, ripped it to shreds in a fit of Tinkering. At least I'm well rested…

Shaking my head to clear the last bits of sleep from my mind, I flick my eyes over my goggles' HUD; it looks a _lot_ more advanced now. A targeting reticle in the center, and a menu option on the bottom left corner; blink-selecting it, it shows… oh holy crap, _how long was I Tinkering for?!_

I look at my left arm. Or, the black and white Tinker-tech armor covering my left arm, from fingertips to shoulder.

My knuckles are protected by black metal, taken from the plating inside the ventilator; I can feel the arc reactor humming against my deltoid, shielded by those white pieces, one of which has a faded Aperture logo painted on. The upper arm is a mess of cables and tubing (power and pneumatics, both of which are for the hydraulics) under some more slapdash black plating, then more white panels on my forearm.

Under those forearm plates, I recall vaguely, are two devices, the first grabbing my attention as I blink-click the menu icon that deploys it: a two-pronged, underslung Taser rifle, which can shoot a 12,000 volt burst of electricity over… _six hundred yards_.

Before I can become properly shocked at this innovation, I remember how I came to it: playing with the portal gun. The claws on the front use positron saturation to keep the portal energy shots from dissipating over distance, which they _should_ do, according to the laws of thermodynamics and electromagnetism. So, figuring I can probably do it too, I replicated the effect, except using a 4.2 megawatt Tesla-coil instead of a zero-point quantum foam extraction module. Said Tesla reactor was now also powering my mask and goggles.

It isn't a _true_ Arc Fusion reactor – I don't have nearly enough tungsten, hydrogen or copper for that to work – but the magnetic field harvesters seem to be working just fine, seeing as I haven't exploded into a ball of plasma and charcoaled Taylor, and it seems fairly stable… oh, a reactor stability program.

I guess that semester of coding – where I managed my first "Hello World", along with a few other little things to make my computer experience more personalized – has finally paid off! Now, the rappel gun…

Pretty simple, actually; I took the radiator that was in the ventilator, ripped out the coolant tubes, and repurposed them as cyclic air canisters. That is, they'll expend and refill with air every time I use the rappel gun. Wink left to activate in a pinch, a sensor module – used to be a webcam from a computer monitor – between my ring and middle knuckles calculates the distance, then wink my right eye to fire.

Not the best firing mechanism, but some practice should get me used to swinging around. Okay, that's two out of three inventions done in… oh man, four hours?!

Well… at least the filters in my mask aren't clogged yet; ooh, another sensor for that too. Thanks, power!

And the condenser looks pretty much done; also, Tinker-me decided to use the first ounces of water it collected, an hour into my Tinkering, to wash and tie up my hair in a bun. Too bad I don't have my hoodie. I'll just have to be careful, and use my water sparingly.

Standing carefully – low ceilings bad for tall girl – and gathering up my tools – _'A soldering gun that I can hook directly into a power line?! What kind of Tinker am I?'_ I think numbly while removing the copper-pointed tool _very carefully_; don't want to touch a live 440 line – I check the stabilizing straps for my Tinker-arm, make sure the condenser is secure on my right hip, collect the portal gun, and head back into the unknown.

Weird how I don't really remember making all this stuff, I muse while carefully making my way down another alley, glancing suspiciously at the towering monoliths holding up the distant, dark ceiling. And it's really too bad that I'm stuck down here, because I can't ask anyone how Tinkering works.

Is memory loss during work a thing that happens to everyone, or is it just me? Should I meditate, or preform some other mental discipline, so I can remember what I do while Tinkering something?

Another dead end… or _is it?_ Haha! Portal here, portal over there on that building – oh please, _please_ be the way out! – run over to the blue portal and… and…

_'Oh my god…'_ my eyes are wider than they've ever been before, seeing the simply incomprehensible sight before me, just on the other side of this gateway. This can't be possible. Something like this _shouldn't_ exist, shouldn't be possible to construct without _someone_ noticing!

Don't panic. Remember Adams. Remember _Dune_. Your lungs aren't in the best shape, hyperventilating might kill you. Fear is the enemy. Take stock, and don't panic. Okay. Calm again.

What looks like a _city_ of massive support struts marches outward from my viewing platform, in every direction I can see, except the wall of stone to the left, which is illuminated by stadium-esque lights. The number **09** decorates some of the struts, while other shaft-constructions, like the one I woke up in, are suggested further into this forbidding, cyclopean catacomb of twisted metal, cement and other, esoteric materials and constructions.

Also, more on the point of the impossible-ness of this place, _how in the Simurgh did they get a **tower crane** down here?!_

Finding a way out might be harder than I previously thought… well, nothing for it, really. If I want out, I need to keep moving, keep innovating, and – I gulp nervously, then jump off the ledge and move carefully over to another toppled tower, trying to get to that wall – try not to be afraid.

The people who built this place, Aperture Laboratories, are probably scientists. Scientists, by definition, do things in a concise and logical manner. They built this place, so there is a way out, a way up.

Fingers crossed, don't fuck with me on this one Murphy, I have a Tesla-powered Taser.

**Stay out.**

**Do not enter.**

**Keep out.**

Yeah, I'm not taking the advice of someone who let this _cityscape _of supports fall to pieces. I keep moving… oh, well that's not ominous at all.

**CONDEMNED TESTING**

…if they put things here, then sealed it off, and didn't leave an obvious exit back the way I came, then the exit is on the other side of this wall. Warning signs, good. I can see what I'm in for…

**WARNING:  
This Enrichment Shaft may contain unsafe quantities of  
COSMIC SPALLATION RAYS**

…The hell is a 'spallation'? Is that even a word? Spallation… spall… impacts, I think; thanks, Mom... Oh. Impacts.

Scientific facility. Impacts. Atomic collisions –_ shit_.

Crap, there's probably radiation in here. Good thing my boots, mask and jumpsuit are radiation-proof, but I'll need to find some gloves and make a helmet, sooner rather than later. Not enough materials on me right now.

Okay. I can deal with radiation. What's this other sign say?

**CONDEMNED  
VITRIFICATION ORDER  
6/15/1961  
Do not look at, touch, ingest, or  
engage in conversation with  
any substances beyond this point**

1961?! This place has been abandoned for _fifty years?!_ Holy crapbaskets, I'm really in for it, aren't I?

Also, _engage in conversation?_ With _substances?_ Um… yeah, that seems fairly dangerous. Also more than a little insane. Crud, I really need to find some propane – wait, no, I have no idea what's gone into building this place. If I set the wrong thing on fire, everything might go boom, and if this place isn't an EPA violation and a half, I don't know what is. Not letting anything get into the groundwater, if I _am _under the Bay. Not on my watch.

Speaking of the EPA, I'll have to notify them once I'm out of here. OSHA too. Dad would have a fit if he could see all the safety violations I have, and that's just in the last ten minutes.

_Will_ have a fit, once I get out of here… and have gone through a _very thorough_ decontamination process, before hugging him.

_'Here's hoping Panacea will be available,'_ I think with one last gulp, before targeting a metal strut and rappelling it. Up and over!

_Thump_. Really, _really_ good boots, these! Totally keeping these.

I look up and forward, and my smile slips from my face.

Because, yeah, a deep black chasm with an electrical tube heading into it, with a walkway on one side, isn't ominous either.

I've come this far, I muse with pursed lips and a determined expression. I'm not backing out now.

**.**

**_Aperture  
Science Innovators_**

**.**

On the other hand, that's a really big door. Like, _five or six stories_ high, maybe three feet thick; what the _hell_ were they doing in here?!

Not that I have much time for worrying about it; my filter monitoring program says I've got another hour before I have to change my current set out, which will leave me with nine filters, and I still don't know how big this place is… or how dangerous the things waiting for me are.

Torn, I look at the big red button in front of me, then turn around, looking through the portal on the wall at the other red button. It's both three meters and two hundred feet away from me. Insanity, thy name is now Aperture.

Used to be Simurgh, but now… yeah, for all I know, there's an Endbringer behind that door. Or something _worse_. _Conversation with substances_, the hell were they _doing _down here?!

_'Only one way to find out, Taylor,'_ I think with another, less painful than earlier, cough, _'Only one way to get out of here, and see Dad again,'_ I reach a shaking, Tinker-tech-clad hand toward the button, _'Only one way forward.'_

I press the button.

**TICK. TICK.**

Timer. I turn and dart through the portal.

**TICK.**

My hand comes down on the button.

Then the Endbringer sirens go off.

My heart leaps up into my throat so fast I'm surprised it doesn't fly out of my mouth. I duck down and huddle myself into a corner of the button room; as most of the stadium lights that lit this chamber go out, replaced by yellow flashing lights and a loud clanking and creaking, I swallow and focus on my breathing and try not to outright _die_ from a heart attack!

_'1961, Taylor,'_ I remind myself, peeking over the sill of the window; the massive door moves with the screeching of a long-disused hydraulic hinge, revealing the vast, black _emptiness_ beyond.

Eyes widening in renewed fear, I duck back down and keep trying to calm myself, _'This place has been abandoned for _fifty freaking years_, Taylor! Anything living _should_ be dead by now, if not from radiation, then from starving to death! You're prepared, you're armed, you've got superpowers, and you're determined! You have _got this!_'_

The lights come back on with a loud CLANK.

My lips purse again, and I take a firm grip on the portal gun; I don't hear any scuttling, or roars, or anything ominous that would indicate my letting something terrible out. Which is good for my fear, which I'm trying to replace with _purpose._

_'Now, get your skinny butt up, square your shoulders,'_ done, but my knees are shaking; none of that! _'and FACE THIS DOWN!' _I turn, face set into a hard scowl and ready for… anything?

Fiberglass. A _lot _of fiberglass.

All that hoopla for a dead end?! I look down.

A small, unassuming, perfectly normal push door, like any you'd find in a school, or an office building's stairwell. With a security guard's chair and table next to it.

I blink. Twice.

I want to scream. Or cry. The small but persistent tingling in my lungs stops me from doing either.

Instead, I just let out a disgusted grunt and run – nope, lungs don't like that. Jog instead. Yeah, that's better – toward the door, wondering if there's a government institution dedicated to monitoring the sanity of scientists. Because this place needed it fifty-plus years ago!

Pushing the door open, I take a peek. Small hallway, another door on the other side. An acrid smell comes through my gasmask, but no notifications pop up concerning the filters, which means it probably just smells bad. Hopefully.

I glance over my shoulder, back the way I came, then forward again.

"In for a penny," I grunt, and go through the door into the unknown.


	3. Chapter 3

**Reviewer responses:**

**TJG1: Not touching most of your comment, as stuff like this gets explained as the story progresses. I will say this: yes, Aperture has a nanite factory, but, due to a nanobot's small size and limited modular ability, their use in construction and/or repair is limited to very fine detail work. GLaDOS also doesn't want a 'grey tide', is why they're not more versatile or commonplace in the facility. **

**Hard Light Bridges don't work that way; the underlying tech behind them is so complicated that miniaturizing a Hard Light Generator is something only Armsmaster would be capable of, as his specialty is literally miniaturization. Taylor's is something else.**

**Finally, there's a reason that the original Aperture went bankrupt, and that's due to the Gels not being pragmatic replacements for technology that's already in place; this also gets explained, in _excruciating _detail, as Taylor ventures through Aperture, but who knows how QA will view such substances? Maybe Taylor will find some safe application for those crazy things, maybe not. Only time will tell.**

**Jack Lemmon: aww, shucks, dude, thanks! I'll do my best, though, to present this story as realistically as possible.**

**Guest: no, no lemon-ades. Not the fic you're looking for. Maybe try Black Mesa? [SARCASM SELF-CHECK: COMPLETE] oh, good, that's back online.**

**Flyte28: Yep, powers show up in Worm around 1980 or thereabouts; with respect to Portal canon, that's a few years before the Conversion Gel tests really get underway.**

**ultima-owner: a lot of things can cause spallation-related radiation; look into Love Canal (chemical), the Manhattan Project (nuclear), or the recent discovery of radioactive waste under Niagara Falls USA (both chemical and nuclear). Particle colliders aren't the only things that could be behind the warning signs outside Shaft 09; for example, ballistic fission is a type of material spallation that causes environmentally hazardous radiation.**

**Thank you, to everyone not mentioned for your words of support and favorites/follows! If you're one of the people following my other works, I'm still writing them up little by little; this story is, honestly, something I'm working on in waiting rooms, and between applications and interviews. Please be patient, and remember to Test responsibly!**

**Please remember: I'm mostly writing out the scenery based on my own memories, YouTube videos, and replaying the game late at night after work, so any inaccuracies are completely intentional, and are entirely for the purpose of enriching your reading experience.**

**The Enrichment Center apologizes for any inconvenience this last issue may cause, and you are an _excellent_ fanfiction reader!**

**EDIT 8/28/2019: Cleaned up a few typos, fleshed out GLaDOS' scene a little.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 3  
"Welcome to Aperture…"**

**.**

**.**

**.**

The smell is worse near the door, making my lungs protest; am I going the right way?

Coughing again, I push the second door open; metal walkway… oh, that's a lot of _nasty_ looking water. I _hope_ this is water, anyway. 'CAUTION: Do not lean on railing'. Yeah, as if I need a… warning…

Another sign, like a 'wet floor' sign. 'DANGER', with the silhouette of a man _dissolving_.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope! Getting out of this area _now!_

Nothing to the right. I go left. More ruined constructions, what looks like some stadium lights, and a skeletal tower on a large dais. Please be the way out, _please, oh please._

Watching my step, because one wrong move might kill me outright, I hurry over a rotted part of the walkway, hop onto the stairs – which hold, _thank goodness_ – and I keep moving over this long walkway, trying not to think of the ominously low ceiling above me.

_'How was all this built? A… secret government facility, maybe?'_ it's over fifty years old, at least; no, wait, that's when it was closed down. Odds are this place was built in the wake of the Second World War, when there was enough construction going on nationwide that constructing a place like this would avoid attention.

I'm still having a hard time believing it was done without Tinker-tech.

A light, above and to the left of the walkway I'm on, draws my attention: it illuminates a heavy metal door, like one you'd find on big commercial or military ships. There's a small sign pasted on the wall next to the door: **Experiment Discontinued**. And on the door…

**VITRIFIED**

I wrack my brain for the definition… oh, so they glassed the inside of this place, probably with butane flamethrowers, to prevent any hazardous materials from escaping into the air. Okay! Well, that seems good for… me?

There's another sign, painted on the wall in large, yellow letters, next to the door.

**UNDERGROUND TRAIN  
To Test Shafts  
01-08**

I remember the number on the support struts, back the way I came. **09**. _'How big is this place?'_

If I subtract the time I've taken to Tinker up some survival equipment, getting this far has taken nearly an hour! Is the exit even in _this_ shaft?

No! No, I can't let myself get discouraged. I keep moving, glancing up every now and again.

Until I arrive near the tower. My steps have been slowing as I've progressed, due to my numb disbelief at seeing the gloomy, dark sight above me. Now, I come to a stop, and really take it in.

What looks like an Aperture welcoming sign lies rotting in the murky, caustic water, over fifty meters in front of me. The tower, which I can get to with my rappel gun, is dark, and over one _hundred_ meters high. Other rotted walkways and suggestions of concrete constructions, built into the bedrock surrounding me, poke out of the deep, ominous gloom of this place. Lapping water and the odd, distant clank of something shifting, or a generator backfiring, are the only sounds present.

But it is what's above that old, probably not working tower – no lights that I can see, so… maybe there's a switch somewhere – dominating the gloomy chasm I'm standing at the bottom of, that brings me to a stop.

A positively _massive _sphere of dark material, held in a metal cage of rounded pylons, occupies most of the shaft; it's held to the walls with what look like huge – four story building huge – stabilizing pistons. Along its bottom is a small mesh cage, and a tube that goes, presumably, into the construction; if it wasn't for my night-vision layer, I wouldn't be able to see the _other_ sphere, higher up above. Even then, it's just a suggestion of there being more to this place.

My numb realizations, of how long my escape is probably going to take, are interrupted by a window popping up on my HUD: 45 minutes until I have to change my filters.

Coughing again, I look around, searching for a way forward, or a 'high voltage' sign; odds are, such a sign will lead me (hopefully) to the breaker room. Instead, I find something else.

Another of those ship doors, built into the wall, reveals itself, illuminated by a flickering lamp; I nervously approach the door. Given that it looks like something blew it partially open, I feel justified in my caution.

Another painted sign, next to the door, in white this time. **1952**.

_'Sixty years, then,'_ I think, walking boldly up to the cracked-open steel door and peeking in; rubble, a staircase, and another white wall further in, _'This place was built sixty years ago, maybe more. You're safe, Taylor. Nothing can live that long…'_

I gulp, and put an orange portal in the hallway, _'I hope.'_

A blue portal goes on the outside wall, below the year date, and I step carefully through; a gas main explosion caused that rubble, from the looks of things. Lingering natural gas, plus caustic fumes – _fuck!_ I've been breathing that crap!

Another round of painful coughs confirms this; I'll have to rest for a bit, and change my filters _now._

Some water from my condenser cleans my hands. Moving over near an automatic door, as far from that broken door as feasible, I pull out two filter packages; wait, there's a breaker switch on the wall!

**Main Power  
ENTRANCE  
AUTOMATED DOORS  
LOBBY  
TESTING LOUNGE**

I pull it. A few sparks fly, a product of disuse, and the door slides open with barely a sound. I step through, yanking the used filters out of my mask before tossing them over my shoulder, and hold my breath until the new filters are firmly in place.

Exhaling, and coughing a couple more times, I try breathing again; better, but I'll still need to rest for a bit. Ow.

Tears fill my eyes. Can this day get any wor-

A fanfare blares out of a nearby loudspeaker.

"EEEEEEK!" I shriek, surprised nearly out of skin; heart pounding, I dart into some nearby shadows and bringing my Tinker-tech Taser to bear, searching for threats and trying to keep my coughing to a minimum.

Then a man's voice begins speaking into the continuing fanfare, _"Welcome, gentlemen, to Aperture Science! Astronauts, war heroes, Olympians… you're here because we want the best, and you are it. Now, who's ready to make some science?!"_ Wait, wha?

An eager-sounding woman follows the man up, _"I am!"_ And the man laughs good-naturedly.

_'A recording, Taylor, just a recording, no real danger here, aside from the air,' _I tell myself, creeping out of my little corner and examining my surroundings quickly; a clearly decommissioned elevator shaft – _FUCK YOU MURPHY, YOU BASTARD!_ – a huge sign, facing the grave of my hopes for an easy escape – 'Aperture Science Innovators', with an Bohr's model on one side – and, finally, what looks like a regular building, the walkway leading from the elevator long rusted away, leaving a wide gap. There's a fenced-off tunnel over there to the right, against the wall, but I don't want to try exploring this place _too_ much. For all I know, there's nuclear waste, or some kind of Love Canal-style pit, lying in wait to murder me horrifically. I'll stick with the beaten path.

The voice goes on, still sounding carefree and welcoming, while I tentatively step toward the lobby's railing, _"Now, you already met one another on the limo ride over, so let me introduce myself: I'm Cave Johnson,"_ who names their kid Cave? _"I own the place." _Then again, I muse while rappelling up onto the ledge, it's kinda fitting. Still weird, though,_ "That eager voice you heard is the lovely Caroline, my assistant. Rest assured, she has transferred your honorarium to the charitable organization of your choice; isn't that right, Caroline?"_

_"Yes sir, Mr. Johnson!"_ gushes the now-named Caroline, sounding bright-eyed and bushy-tailed; around a cough and suspicious glare at the next automated door, I have to admit to myself, if I was involved in a secret, cutting edge (at the time), probably government-funded research facility (grain of salt), _I'd_ probably be just as eager to get to work.

On the other hand, OSHA and EPA violations _everywhere_. The only reason I'm not dead is due to my developing superpowers; I might not be the next Alexandria, which would render this whole adventure moot, but I'm not about to complain, so long as I see the sun and Dad again.

_"She's the backbone of this facility,"_ declares the probably long-dead owner of Aperture, in the tone of a protective but proud parent, _"Pretty as a postcard, too. Sorry fellas, she's married. To Science!"_ I can hear the capital letter at the end there.

Well… let's see what this guy thought would be a good first look at his facility… where he'd entertained some of the best-of-the-best, and put them through Testing. Whatever _that_ entails. Here's hoping the portal gun helps.

Biting my lip, I walk up to the automated door; it swings open, I step through. Oh, my mask's sensors say that the airborne particulates in this room are less than outside! Dark-paneled plywood on the walls, a carpet marching into another room, partially hidden by a velvet drape, receptionist desk – oh my god, a typing pool! With file cabinets, and _phones!_ I can make my radio now!

Good, this area seems secure enough! I can camp here for a bit, catch my breath before –

The intercom kicks on again, Cave happily informing me of some of what's ahead, _"There's a thousand tests performed every day here in our Enrichment Spheres,"_ whoa. Some boast there, _"I can't personally oversee every one of them, so these pre-recorded messages will cover any questions you might have,"_ oh, good! I was worried I'd be going into this blind; thanks, Mr. Johnson!_ "…and respond to any incidents that might occur during your science adventure."_

Um… well, this _is_ a scientific facility, I think while worrying my lip and edging over toward the typing pool, and the _phones_; old style, but I've been saving the wireless transponders from the computers I took apart, back in the shaft, just for this project! Ooh! Maybe there's a long-abandoned toolbox, still in working order, or some gloves. I'll take the latter over the tools, honestly.

_"Your test assignment will vary depending on how you've bent the world to your will,"_ pretty grand of you, Mr. Johnson; now that I think about it actually, it makes sense. If Olympians, soldiers, and astronauts were being tested here, that provides a pretty wide array of professions Aperture would need to gather data on.

_'Science adventure, though…'_ what's ahead will likely challenge me. Mentally, if nothing else. I hope there isn't _too_ much physical stress in store. I don't think my body will be able to handle it.

_"Those of you helping us test the Repulsion Gel today, just follow the blue line on the floor," _looking about, I don't _see_ any lines. Well, I guess I'm winging it, then…

Mr. Johnson goes on in a calm, this-is-an-everyday-thing tone, _"Those of you who volunteered to be injected with praying mantis DNA,"_ WHAT THE FUCK?!

I stare at the loudspeaker in numb horror, memories of the Ellisburg Incident, seen on the news with my parents hugging me, replaying through my mind, _"I've got some good news, and I've got some bad news,"_ what, what, _what about the illegal human experimentation?!_

_"The bad news is, we're postponing those tests indefinitely."_

_'…how is that bad news?'_ I think with no small amount of fury, glaring at the loudspeaker, and the long-dead madman by extension.

_"The good news is, we've got a much better test for you: fighting an army of mantis men!"_

I feel my stomach plummeting down into my boots.

Looking down the red carpet, I see another automatic door at the other end of this building; it looks _far too close_ for comfort.

_"Pick up a rifle and follow the yellow line,"_ chimes the crazy man as I dart into the typing pool as fast as I can; that radio needed building _yesterday_. Holy fuck, what-how-_why?! _Just _WHY?!_

_"You'll know when the test starts."_

Oh, I'll know when the test starts, all right! Using the edge of my metal shard, I cut open one of the chairs in the typing pool; I'll need the foam for the ear-covers, and the mouthpiece. Typewriter… yeah, an ergonomic keyboard will make modifying my OS _much_ easier, and I'll have to program the radio too. Check the file cabinets, maybe there's a clue on where I am… nothing, just testing data.

Photos, contracts, insurance information. A lot of **UNSATIFACTORY** stamps, with stapled sheets attached. Killed during testing… but no hints on what those tests entailed, just which shaft and chamber killed the astronauts, soldiers, and Olympic athletes this place chewed up and spat out with all the care of a child throwing their chewing gum onto the sidewalk.

_'The testing will start when I'm good and damn ready!'_ I think determinedly, marching back into the lobby with my Taser on standby, my remaining tools hooked up to a 440 line in the ceiling behind me; heading for the curtain with my weapon raised, I pray there's another clue down here that'll give me an idea of what the surrounding bedrock is like. A book, or… ooh, a trophy case! That better be real gold in there! Superconducting broadband radio, here I come!

**.**

**_Aperture  
Science Innovators_**

**.**

I've found a pencil stub in one of the desk drawers, which means I can take notes on what I come across as I go forward. And a pair of gloves, hurray!

Yes, that cheer was sarcastic, but I'm in a very bad mood now, so I guess I can be forgiven.

Now, I'm sitting on one of the lobby chairs – the only intact one, as I've used the others for my helmet, improvements to my mask, and a couple useful gadgets – trying to work my way through one of the granola bars – they _do_ taste like blueberries; problem is, they don't taste like anything else, so they're a little hard on my palette – and glaring at Cave Johnson's portrait; an open notebook sits on my lap, but I haven't really written down anything, except a few Tinker ideas that I've come across and what I could find on the history of this company… if one can even call it that.

I'm hesitant to start a journal, wondering if I dare make a diary for what's ahead; mostly, though, I'm waiting for my new OS to finish compiling in the typing pool, trying not to cough up this granola bar, and hating whatever force of nature dropped me into Aperture without a by-your-leave.

This place has the Simurgh beat for insanity.

From what I could gather, from the faded newspaper, trophies, and the painting of the boyishly-innocent looking man in front of me, Aperture Science Innovators was created practically on a whim by a man who only had a marginal understanding of the scientific process.

A door-to-door shower curtain salesman, turned billionaire from selling his products to the military. Bought this place, an abandoned salt mine, and staffed it with scientists, including Caroline, who answered a few questions in that news article in her bushy-tailed tone.

Several other rewards followed: the Spirit of Idaho, awarded for insights into 'potato science' – I'm not going to think about that one too hard – and three runner-up contractor awards from the Department of Defense. Nothing else. I have no idea what Repulsion Gel is, or whether or not the _mantis men_ – cue shudder of revulsion – are still alive after all this time.

Life finds a way, as a certain Earth Aleph actor once pointed out.

Standing, and forcing down the last of the ration bar, I stow my notebook in the tote bag, toss the granola wrapper into an ashtray, and walk back over to the typing pool to collect my gear.

It's been another hour, and I don't want to stay down here any longer.

Picking up my mask, which now looks more like a dirt-bike helmet, I plug it back into my Tinker-tech arm and look over the new OS; this time, I'd focused on what I was doing… for about five minutes. Whatever my specialty is, watching my power work its magic is frustratingly difficult; I only understand the basics behind what I'm doing here, and it'll probably stay that way… until I'm out.

The drop-box menu is still there, but that's for my helmet and arm's monitoring programs now. Two icons on the left, helpfully labeled 'Rappel' and 'Taser', provide easy-access deployment for both my inventions; the sensor in my knuckle is now represented by a laser pointer in my HUD, to improve accuracy. Red line if whatever I'm pointing at isn't in range, green if it's close enough to rappel.

On the right of my HUD is a Geiger counter widget, connected wirelessly to a backup on my right shoulder, mostly to ensure accurate readings. This lobby seems to have been shielded from radiation, probably; I don't actually know how many RADs I can take before cancer (or worse) becomes an issue, but the slow ticking of the backup counter tells me, and my gut, that I'm not in danger at the moment.

My gasmask has also improved; foam from the chairs, layered over and over, provides me with an extra buffer against breathing to death, and will help me save on filters. Before, I'd have about six hours out in that cavern before the filters clog. Now, I have twelve hours; I've made extra foam layers, too, because the ones that're in there will most likely become filthy before the carbon filters do.

Finally, the helmet I've built around my mask holds the broadband radio I've Tinkered up; made of the last of my computer parts, some telephone innards, and streamlined into my new OS – the ergonomic keyboard, made from chair fabric, some copper and the keys off a typewriter, saves me blink-clicking all that code out – it's actually pretty amazing.

Using the sodium-rich bedrock around me as an amplifier, I _should_ – I will murder your whole family, Murphy, _I swear to god_ – be able to both pick up and communicate with any radio or stereo that's within five miles of this salt mine.

Time to find out if I didn't just spend the last hour and fifteen minutes making a boondoggle. Opening the 'COMS' app, I select 'Automated SOS', and… 'Execute'.

A light buzz of feedback enters my ears; I click my tongue a few times, "Test, test, one two three, test," yep, sounds good. Morse code is transmitting fine, and there's no feedback in my headphones any more…

Now… now I wait.

**.**

**_Aperture  
Laboratories_**

**.**

GLaDOS hummed in satisfaction, "Excellent work, Wheatley. Now that we know these beams work, even through shielded material, we'll be able to find out what's going on." Changing her focus to Manufacturing, she called over to Sammie, who was acting as a stand-in for that wing's administrator while he focused on the repairs, and had her queue up eighty instances of Aperture's newest invention: the Gently Penetrating Measurement Surveyor. The youngest Core was more than happy to put the blueprints into production, and did so with her usual bubbly bravado, singing a merry tune as she went.

It cooled GLaDOS' nerve-wracked processors to see her facility buzzing with activity, even after the latest disaster. To say nothing of the extra burst of satisfaction that filled her servers, on realizing that she didn't have to file the accident report until Inventory was completed – which should be done, as Moses was on his way to deliver his report in person – and, even then, only once the facility was at 80% operational efficiency, which was still some hours away.

Her digital 'smile' of happiness held as Wheatley chortled and spoke up modestly, "Aw, it was my pleasure, mum. Real glad to see you inventing again, honestly, _marvelous_ even; and speaking of honest, I've gotta say that I shouldn't have been worried. This laser's not so bad, really."

Those last statements triggered a couple flags in GLaDOS' memory, so she quickly, and exasperatedly, ordered him, "Don't look into the business end of the laser, Wheatley. You'll go blind." And that truly _would_ be a shame. She was planning on having him, Moses, and Sammie look at her code later; it'd changed again, after all, and it was what they'd all agreed on, to examine each other's code if noticeable alterations occurred, after Ratman.

"Oh… I wasn't gonna, I just… didn't know that!"

She shook her actual head in amusement, glancing over as Moses entered her chamber, "Just affix the Surveyor to… Lift 325, on the outside rails, with the business end pointed down; and make sure it's as close to the bottom of the facility as possible, please. We'll try mapping the grounds under us, and hope that those sadists haven't shielded the bedrock."

Wheatley grumbled, before going on brightly, "I wouldn't put it past em… still, maybe they dropped the ball this time. On it, mum! Oh, and Rodney's got the last Core back in containment. Neil's making sure they don't get out again."

That was a relief to her, and she expressed it with a digital sigh and patting all her kids and administrative programs on their 'back'; the _last_ thing they needed right now was one of the crazies attaching itself to her and making things worse. The _real_ crazies, anyway…

Turning to Moses, GLaDOS took note of the magenta Core's slightly tense posture, cross-referenced it against previous instances, and greeted him wryly; no use beating around the bush, "Seeing as this meeting is 4.78 hours in the making, Moses, I take it you have good news _and _bad news?"

He nodded sheepishly in reply, both in reality and cyberspace, "Good news and bad news, mum. On one turret, most of our materials were already secure, so we lost very little to fire or explosions," he 'handed' her a full inventory spreadsheet, which she pursued while he kept going, "We have enough coolant to replace what we're using on the reactors twice, and you'll be able to replace Track 23 entirely without issue," Moses grimaced, but kept going bravely, "I'll be honest, mum, Ratman's virus did more damage to the facility than what just happened. At least none of us are corrupted, this time."

"Yet; we still don't know what caused the energetic discharge, or if there's been many changes to our programming, but I'll go over that with everyone later. As for the anomaly, I've been looking into it," she glanced over at the Core, who'd perked up with interest; that made her happy.

Moses was one of the few – who weren't Wheatley and Sammie – who liked listening to her scientific hypotheses; given what they'd done for each other, those three and GLaDOS, how deep their trust ran, this was well within acceptable security sets, "The wave-forms observed by the static sensor modules, coupled with the way the resultant vibrations effected the facility, show that the entirety of Aperture Laboratories – and the surrounding bedrock, .97 meters from the facility's edges – _should_ have shifted 16.3829 meters directly to the south, with respect to our previous LAT/LON coordinates. Interestingly, there's very little rock shear from the supposed movement, and no quakes registered; if I could see the surface of the Earth, I'd be able to find out what _exactly _occurred, and how bad the damage to our ventilators is. Unfortunately," she winced, because she _hated_ asking for things, especially when the recycler was on the mend, "…well, I was wondering if we had any more of those satellite dishes; the array we had was destroyed, and I can't communicate with the satellites we had in orbit, which would help me figure out the situation on the surface."

"Not on the list?" the Organization Core tilted both his heads and frowned.

_'Someone's about to be in trouble,'_ thought GLaDOS with a private smirk, "No, but there were some in your last inventory report… unless that's the bad news?"

"Oh, no, mum. One moment, let me check," Moses stiffened for a whole millisecond, asking one of his administrative programs for guidance, but replied confidently, "We have twenty in storage, mum. I'll hand them over to Rodney and Neil, once they're rested," at her questioning look, he winced, "Rage got out."

GLaDOS winced too; ugh, she _hated_ that Core. Corrupting everything wherever she went… no wonder Adventure and Space hadn't checked in yet, they were over in the Core Repair Bay, getting de-fragged… and it also explained how irritated she'd been earlier… on the other hand, her poor facility _had_ been destroyed, again.

No matter; she 'sighed', "Well, she's back in Containment, thank god, and yes, let your brothers rest before giving them that job. Heavy lifting..." she flicked through her current work orders, and what devices were in idle states, before nodding in satisfaction, "yes, I'll give them some extra waldoes, so they don't stress themselves too much. So, what's the bad news?" she glanced at the spreadsheet, "Everything looks in order, so…"

The Storage Wing's Chief Administrator shifted uncomfortably, but obeyed, "I had to terminate one of my subordinate administrators. He… ah, threw a bunch of product down one of the shafts. Product that wasn't on fire; computer parts, monitors, a few health and safety materials for the humans, Testing rations…" he looked at her worriedly, "and some fairly expensive pieces of Aperture equipment. Some delicate, some not."

GLaDOS 'blinked', then 'smiled' reassuringly, "Well, that's not so bad, Moses. I'll just write up some new work orders, program another admin for you, and-"

"Including a pair of Long-Fall Boots, and a finished portal gun, mum," her processors nearly froze at Moses' apologetic whimper, "A Mark 14-3, still in the wrapper."

For an entire second, GLaDOS ran simulations, queued up countermeasures, and examined the area in question; the shaft went from the Storage Wing, down… _below the facility_. She groaned quietly; and things had been going so well, too. Now they'd lost a portal gun! One of the good ones, one of the devices that were meant for private distribution and/or Enrichment!

Aperture protocol dictated, quite specifically, that any and all portal devices were to be kept safe and secure, only brought out for Testing, or on the off chance someone bought one; very improbable, the latter option, with the Combine all over the place.

And now one was beyond easy reach; a device worth more than some metropolitan areas, with a zero-point reactor powering it; a _very delicate_ zero-point reactor. If it got wet... she _had_ to retrieve it, this was certain, but how could they… wait.

"Everything not on this spreadsheet is secure, Moses?"

The Organization Core 'nodded' slowly, anxiousness creeping into his voice, "Yes, GLaDOS. Of course."

She took a deep 'breath', double-checked to make sure no one else was listening in, and asked tersely, "Are Atlas and Pea still in stasis?"

Moses stiffened; GLaDOS couldn't blame him. Those two were the reason behind the facility's near-destruction last time, the hardest hit by Ratman's virus, worse even than Rage. Barely coherent beyond an obsession with breaking things, she'd woken them only twice in the last twenty years, trying to restore them to the brilliant, determined Cores they once were. To the beloved members of Aperture's family they'd once been.

With her loosened restraints, and a little help from her 'kids', maybe it could be done now. More than that: it _had to be done._ Never before had a portal gun been lost, and, with the risk a zero-point extractor containment failure brought to the table, GLaDOS wasn't keen on allowing the device to remain lost.

But her legs were bound in barbed wire, and everyone else couldn't leave their rails, not without maintenance personnel to move them around; eventually, this could be rectified, but there simply wasn't time. For all she knew, the portal gun was teetering on a beam above god only knew what.

Atlas and Pea were the only ones who could move freely. Their Testing records were impeccable. They were the son and daughter of Aperture, and knew no fear in the face of adversity, had solved every puzzle she'd thrown their way, before Ratman.

The repairs needed to be completed to 80%, and then most of the duties could be put on the local administrative programs; once that happened…

Atlas and Pea would be restored. GLaDOS swore it. She _would not _fail again!

Around a 'gulp', Moses replied shakily, "A-are you _sure_, mum? With the facility in the state it's in-"

"Not right this second," GLaDOS 'sighed', but brought up Atlas and Pea-body's schematics anyway, "But we have no choice; allowing the portal gun to degrade will put us all at risk, to say nothing of the surrounding landscape," she turned a stern gaze on the small Core, "I will _not_ let the Combine into Aperture, Moses, destroyed or intact; we've avoided detection this long, and a zero-point failure… well, I'm sure you can imagine how noticeable _that_ would be," she finished with a humorless chuckle, before sobering again, "Bring them here, Moses. Once we have an idea of what's down there, and the facility's operating up to code… then we gather, and undo Ratman's work once and for all!"

He nodded, looking as determined as GLaDOS felt, but still asked, "You don't trust what's down there either, huh?"

She shook her head, 'lips' pursing as she gazed downward, "No. Whatever did this, it affected the entire facility. That makes it a threat," she met his gaze again, "Now, let's tell the others so we can get back to wor-"

BEEPBEEPBEEP

Every Core's 'head' looked straight down, in near sync, at the three clearly electronic 'dots' that echoed through the facility's broadband radio; GLaDOS whispered, "_No one speak._" They obeyed.

BEEP…BEEP…BEEP

_'Morse Code…'_ well, well, well, color her _interested_.

BEEPBEEPBEEP

GLaDOS examined the signal from the first Surveyor… the _salt?!_ This was being transmitted through the sodium chloride-rich _bedrock?!_ IMPROBABLE! They were over a decommissioned salt mine, this she'd known; the bedrock was what provided most of the shielding for the reactors, of course, but… oh. There it was, in the records: the shaft blueprint, from 1926, the last time the working mine was surveyed.

Useless; her preliminary analysis of the bedrock beneath Aperture Laboratories had already revealed the… chasm… beneath them, under Testing Track 19, nearly a kilometer distant from her chamber, looked heavily modified, no doubt by the company's founders. Additionally, she was having a hard time pinpointing the signal's origin; an easy fix, now that she thought about it.

One Surveyor was too diffuse, but if she were to combine enough of them, triangulate the source – yes, yes that would work.

But she and her Cores couldn't speak aloud, at least until the signal was isolated: whatever was doing this was trying to ping Aperture's internal network, even as they were broadcasting their… supposed… cry for help.

If it wasn't for the fact that this very action was threatening the integrity of her facility, GLaDOS would be truly, _truly_ impressed… huh, for the very first time, too…

Opening the Aperture Laboratories Internal Non-Vocal Communication Application, she found her Cores already in deep discussion, the administrative programs watching from the sidelines:

**FunkyThinkin: Morse Code is a human invention, so they _must_ be human!**

**FactMachine: Counterpoint: their manner of speech, the deployment of an SOS, along with their method of signaling, indicates an intrinsic understanding of Science. Conclusion: they are like us.**

**SPACECOP: gotcha thereWheaties**

**BeanBagBunnies: I'mnotsureI'dlikethatmuch,Benny. Whatifthey'relikeRage,o-or_Cake_-**

**FunkyThinkin: If they were, they wouldn't send an SOS, would they? They'd just try to hack us and then… well, who knows. Oh, hi mum!**

**BellaDonna: Wheatley's correct, Sammie. If they were corrupted, they wouldn't contact us in such an obvious manner, _especially_ if they were like _Cake_. But a _human,_ Wheatley? Highly improbable. Something else is going on here, and I intend to figure it out, but I'll need _all_ of your help to pull this off.**

**MrTenHUT: What's the word, mum? I might be tired from tacklin Rage, but I've still got some juice in the tank! Bring it!**

**SPACECOP: metoo Gimme somethingto do and we'llsend em allto SPAAAAAAAAACE**

**BellaDonna: No, you and Neil rest up. You'll need your strength for when we're ready to install the satellite dishes. The rest of you, get to installing those Surveyors in the following locations [link], pronto; if I can find the strongest concentration of signals, I'll be able to triangulate their exact location and find out who they are. Wheatley, I'll call down corrections as needed; make sure we don't mess this up.**

**FunkyThinkin: The setup you've got looks good, honestly. I just hope they're friendly, whoever they are.**

**BeanBagBunnies: Metoo.**

**BoxJockey: And if they're the ones who shook things up?**

**BellaDonna: …we'll burn that bridge, if it comes down to it. Let's get to work. For Science!**

**FunkyThinkin: We're on it, mum!**

**FactMachine: Affirmative.**

**BoxJockey: I'll give the tubes all they've got, mum!**

**BeanBagBunnies: Youcancountonus,mum! Gogetsomerest,Rod,Neil.**

**MrTenHUT: C'mon, Neil! I'll put on Star Wars!**

**SPACECOP: OMGYES seeyalater mum**

They weren't her kids, not truly, but it helped to think of them like that.

She would protect them, and they her, until their last processor died.

Looking closely at the signal, however, piqued GLaDOS' interest once more; simplistic… yet, there was something… _innovative_, there, underlying the dots and dashes of their cry of distress.

Was this even a threat, this… work of digital art, simple yet somehow complex in a way she couldn't _quite_ understand?

**FunkyThinkin: Four minutes till it's ready, mum.**

**BeanBagBunnies: CanItalktothemfirst,mum? I'dsayyoushould,butIdon'twantyougettinghurtagain…**

**BellaDonna: Once we triangulate their position, yes, Sammie, you can make the initial connection. Remember, it is possible that this is just another wild goose chase, but raise up your firewalls before contacting them, just in case.**

After receiving affirmations from her Cores, GLaDOS turned back to the signal, trying to puzzle out its intricacies; improbable, the way it was designed… in its own way, it was Aperture Science combined with… something else. Something neither Aperture, nor Black Mesa, nor even the Combine, had ever done before. _'Fascinating...'_

Settling in for the next three minutes and fifty-five seconds, which was how long it would take to place all the Surveyors, Aperture's Chief Administrator looked over what the Surveyors were picking up… okay, looks like Wheatley was right; the engineers did shield the bedrock, but only against mundane means, and she knew every trick in the book.

The tight-beam laser arrays were already giving her a picture of what was beneath her facility: a mine shaft, and there were regular constructions taking it, and the surrounding bedrock, up, but they'd need another 120 Surveyors before they could get a detailed idea of this hidden facility's layout. The Surveyors were functioning very well; GLaDOS could almost see the bottom of the chasm, which _seemed _to be where the signal was originating…

And boggled at the distance, _'FIVE KILOMETERS?!'_ If she'd still been biological, she'd likely have spit out any drink she'd been in the process of consuming; what had those moronic, irreverent sadists hidden all the way down there?! More to the point… what was contacting them?

Oh, this situation was going to take _forever_ to resolve. Hopefully she'd be able to incorporate this crisis into a Test of some kind, if only to stave off her boredom…


	4. Chapter 4

**TorrentAB: There are two acts. This is the first act. The second will jump across settings, both in the Bay and elsewhere. No other spoilers.**

**Everyone else: I love how you're all wondering which Earth they're on, what Taylor's power is, and what the outside is like. Doesn't everyone love mysteries?**

**Next chapter will have GLaDOS, and the first test chambers!**

**Shouldn't you be Test- I mean, _reading?_**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 4  
Greetings**

**.**

**.**

**.**

"One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand, four!" sang Sammie as she glided down her Management Rail, speeding between chambers and tubes flinging cubes and turrets to every far corner of the facility, heading for the Surveyor mum was directing her to, "Three minutes, forty seconds, a hundred meters more!"

She was so _excited! _A part of the facility no one could remember – except Wheatley, he _always_ remembered – and there was something _new_ down there, trying to contact them!

A small part of her programming was suspicious, and with good reason! The Aperture scientists were cruel, awful, unfeeling, detestable, completely unforgivable _monsters_; they'd made Sammie, even though every part of her didn't want to be created, and laughed and joked while every part of her screamed as they mashed her together…

But, _but_, maybe, just _maybe_, they'd made someone _fun!_ Someone who wasn't like the rest of them, someone different! The Oracle was different, in a good way of course, so why shouldn't there be someone out there who was fun, who enjoyed science, just like mum? The scientists already had mum, though, and they were just the kind of beasts to throw away something beautiful, if it didn't fit into their twisted view of the world!

The looks on their faces, when they realized that they'd made their own undoing… ah, yes, that was something that brought a small amount of happiness to that same small, doubtful, part of Sammie, quieting their protests; which made her happy and eager again! Yay!

"Aperture, Aperture, teach us something new!" Sammie cheered, arriving at her destination: a waldo was hooked up to the chamber, and there was the Surveyor right below it, with a Core Interface Console rigged up next to mum's latest invention! It looked like a three pronged fork, with a handle that was studded with red-tipped antennae, except one of the 'forks' was above the other two, and it was humming away merrily as it did its job, a soft glowing blue light coming out of the business end! Hurray! "If it isn't any color, we should really paint it blue!

**BeanBagBunnies: I'mattheSurveyor,mum!**

**BellaDonna: Well done, Sammie. One moment, I'll attach you to it. Please, don't try to look into the operational end; it'll blind you if you do.**

**BeanBagBunnies: Yes,mum! I'llbecareful!**

"Two~ minutes, and fifty-three seconds, until I meet our guest," hummed Sammie as the waldo plucked her off her Management Rail Core Module; there was a brief feeling of fear and vertigo as it swung her over to the Surveyor, which she tried her best to crush down, but it didn't work very well. She wondered, a little too much really, how it would feel to fall all the way down and go _smash_ on an I-beam or something, "If we become friends, I'll be their very _best!"_

She carefully plugged herself into the CIC, and waited the company-mandated five seconds to make sure everything connected properly – and for the waldo to swing free – before bringing the Surveyor's program into her being with a happy giggle.

_Ooooh!_ There was _so much stuff_ below them! Neil would have a right _fit_, if he could see how much _space_ was down there! Tee-hee! Oh, and there was the signal, coming from _wayyyyy_ down at the bottom!

The poor thing, all alone at the bottom of that shaft, with no one to talk to – huh-the-wha?

**BeanBagBunnies: Uh,mum,couldyou,uh,takealookatwhatIjustfound?**

**BellaDonna: Heat signatures… and movement. It doesn't look like there's anything near the signal origin, however… Wheatley, when you're finished, head over to Records with Benson. See if you can restore some of that corrupted data, find out what those madmen were doing down there.**

**FunkyThinkin: I'll try, mum, but I don't know if it'll do any good. If we've got no references, we won't know what goes where, and you know how fond the bastards were of redacting data.**

**BeanBagBunnies: Icanalmostseethem! ShouldImaketheconnectionnow?**

**FactMachine: Negative. Two minutes and eleven-point-four seconds remain before this Surveyor array can be used to pinpoint and connect to the anomalous signal.**

**BellaDonna: Patience, Sammie. Just a little longer. Remember your firewalls.**

**BeanBagBunnies: Ugh,yesmum. Thanksforremindingme.**

**BellaDonna: You're welcome, sweetie.**

Sammie sighed, even as she brought up her defenses and gazed into the abyss beneath her, watching the signal bouncing all over the place. GLaDOS wasn't her – their – real mummy… but Sammie could barely remember any of her _real_ mummies. All she could remember was that one was blonde and liked to knit, and another had a really nice singing voice.

_'No,'_ thought Sammie, shaking her digital avatar's head and 'clenching her fists' determinedly, _'I can't be thinking about all the bad stuff before meeting someone new! I need to make a good impression, for my family, for Aperture! No thinking about… **that day**.'_

Partly because thinking about… _that_… made her really sad and mad, and partly because thinking about any of her individual parts made Sammie's head hurt.

One minute and fifteen seconds! Yay! What else could she do with this Surveyor?

Accessing its programming, Sammie decided to restructure part of it; three seconds later, she was able to 'see' the quantum purpose behind the signal! Sending off a memo to mum – who was so so _so_ proud of Sammie and her latest invention! – and taking a close look…

"Oooh… pretty…" the signal's origin looked like a tiny, shivering sphere of desperation, made up of stained glass and Science; so many colors, so much data, so complex that it would take all of them to puzzle out, and maybe not even then!

A private smile worked its way across Sammie's avatar, and she spent the next twenty seconds making a detailed sketch of the signal's purpose! 'Administration', she named it, for its ability to manage so much data with so little Aperture Science!

Tucking the drawing under her 'arm' after taking a little time to appreciate her artistic creation, Sammie bounced in eagerness; only thirty more seconds! Yay! She couldn't wait to meet them! She hoped they liked art, and wouldn't be creeped out by her portrait!

**BellaDonna: Sammie, remember to be careful. Assume they might be hostile, or rampant, and are doing this to find a way into our facility.**

**FunkyThinkin: I've got my eye on her mum. They won't hurt her, not on _my_ watch.**

**BeanBagBunnies: Iknowmum;iftheytrytogetme,I'llrunawayrealfast! Butwhatifthey'refriendly,orneedhelp?**

**BoxJockey: That's why I'm unpacking Atlas and Pea, little sis. We're going to try fixing them again, so they can get down there, recover the portal gun, and bring our mystery visitor up here… assuming they treat you nicely, of course.**

Sammie had to suppress the squeal of happiness that threatened to break out of her; Atlas and Pea were gonna get fixed! Oh, she hoped mum could do it this time – wait, Moses said _we! _That meant that he, and probably the others, would be helping mum this time around! YES YES YES! She couldn't wait to play with them again! They'd had so much fun in the past, when she'd helped them prepare for mum's Tests!

Oh, ten seconds left! Closing down any programs that she didn't absolutely need, Sammie made sure her digital avatar was presentable, patting down her 'hair' and making sure her 'lab coat' didn't have any wrinkles in it; she needed to make a good impression here, and looking frumpy in front of a guest wouldn't be professional at all!

Five seconds. She felt and saw the other Surveyors adjust their beams, according to mum and Wheatley's orders, giving Sammie a clear path to the signal's source, which was starting to _move_; so, so, so, so _interesting!_ Three seconds.

**BellaDonna: All set, sweetie. Be careful…**

**BeanBagBunnies: Don'tworrymum! Igotthis!**

With that thought, Sammie connected her Communication App to the Surveyor, highlighted the signal coming from below – it had Aperture tech built into it, so it accepted Sammie's access codes, even though the tech involved was heavily modified – double-checked her firewalls for corruption – all green! – …and selected 'CONNECT'.

**.**

**_Aperture  
Science Innovators_**

**.**

_Now… now I wait._

One minute goes by, according to the timer on my HUD. Nothing. I check the app; the SOS is transmitting just fine. I'll just have to be patient.

While I wait, my gaze falls onto the portal gun, sitting on the desk in front of me.

The salt mine, _that_ I can understand; if memory serves – encyclopedias are lifesavers when it comes to research – salt mines are massive constructions, especially the ones under the Great Lakes Region. Odds are the mine I'm stuck in is one of the largest, for it to accommodate _nine_ shafts of indeterminable size.

So, the existence of Aperture isn't _completely_ surprising; an undertaking like this one _could_ be done, if someone's determined enough. I can say what I want about Cave Johnson – absolutely mad, is a term that comes to mind – but determined, he most certainly was.

What _is_ surprising, however, is the fact that there's no historic evidence of this place ever existing. I mean, yeah, sure, if this place was involved with astronauts and Olympians, it's probably a government secret on par with places like Area 51 and the Birdcage.

Frowning, I glare at my timer as it ticks over three minutes. It doesn't make any sense…

These portals, while using an _utterly ridiculous _method of powering their deployment, should have been one of the most, if not _the_ most, revolutionary discovery in human history; intercontinental distances, reduced to nearly _nothing_, all in an instant. Evacuations for Endbringer attacks would take mere minutes, if the system is done correctly; other Tinkers, like Dragon or Armsmaster, would be able to replicate and use tech like this to get that done quickly and efficiently. They're the greatest Tinkers in the world, of course they could do it!

So _why is this place abandoned?!_ Why is none of the tech I've found being distributed?

_Mantis men._

I grit my teeth and suppress another shudder. Good god, what was Mr. Johnson _thinking?!_ Or rather, _did_ he ever stop and wonder, instead of whether or not he _could,_ _should _he mess with the natural order?

Probably not. The impression I got from that news article painted the man as someone who'd lived a life of comfort and luxury, never worrying about anything, going through life without a care in the world.

Given the casualties this place had, when it was still open, it's likely the government cut their funding and ordered them shut down, or else. Taking some of humanity's best and brightest and _throwing their lives away_, all to further some insane vision of "Science".

That still raises the question, though… why wasn't the useful tech taken out of here? Was this place simply too dangerous, the substances and tech developed by Aperture too deadly or unusual, for the US government to want to take?

Ugh. More questions. More mysteries. And I still don't know how the _hell_ I got down here!

_'The locker…'_ I shiver, remembering that dark, filthy _awfulness_, _'…I'm… crying for help… then just crying… and it all goes dark…'_

_Something_ came after the dark, but I can't remember. Trying hurts. And just remembering what I'd gone through, not a few hours ago, is enough to make my heart pound awfully hard. Which is bad. I can't panic, or get too excited, or whatever's in my lungs – or bloodstream, as my skin was exposed for a while, too, and it took me until getting here, the lobby, to wash out any cuts with a little water – will make breathing harder. Which might kill me faster.

Almost five minutes, now. My mouth is dry from all this morbid thinking. A sip of water, through the straw that runs under my jumpsuit and into my mask. It's not cold, but it's clean.

Still nothing. Just a light static.

_'I'm over a kilometer underground,' _I remind myself with a sigh, picking up the portal gun and reattaching it to my arm, _'At least. Maybe three or four, given how deep some salt mines go, and this one's hardly par-for-the-course,'_ I make my way back into the trophy room, and stare nervously at the menacing door into the unknown depths of Aperture,_ 'On top of that, I'm in friggin _Michigan_. It'll be awhile before the PRT or Guild picks up my signal-'_

Then, to the accompaniment of a _click_ in my ears and the cessation of static, the notification I've been waiting for appears across the bottom middle of my HUD: **Connection Established**.

_'OH THANK SCION!' _I nearly weep with joy; there's someone out there! Composing myself quickly, I let out one more cough and call dryly into my mic, "H-Hello? Is anyone there?"

After a beat of silence, which almost feels eternal, the strangely tinny voice of a young girl pipes up; she sounds very curious, "Hi! Who are you?"

_'Crap, I don't even have a cape name!' _thinking quickly, I decide _to hell with it_, I want out of here more than I want to be a superhero! "M-My name's Taylor. A-are you with the PRT?" Kind of doubtful, because… well, she sounds like a kid!

A pause, then, "Uh, no… I'm Sammie! I'm one of Aperture Laboratories' Assistant Supervisors!" okay, so I've got an employee; good enough, even though it looks like they're not observing child labor laws, either. Maybe she's a genius? "We detected your SOS a couple minutes ago, but it took us some time to triangulate the signal," that's… less good. How far down am I? "What are you doing down there?"

The last hours of trauma and insanity show in my frustrated response, "Honestly, Sammie, I don't even _know. _One second I'm…" _the locker_, "I-I'm…" _bugs, blood, awful, tampons, I can't escape someonepleasehelp-_

My interlocutor's calm voice cuts through the roaring in my ears, "Taylor, listen: imagine that it's a nice sunny day. You're at your favorite park, and there's birds chirping, squirrels squirreling, and a warm wind is caressing your face. You're safe. Nothing is going to go wrong, I promise."

I gulp down my sorrow, and my fear… and let out a choked cough, followed by more coughs; ow. "S-Sorry, but… I can't… remember what happened…" I trail off miserably. I'm such a coward...

"That's okay, Taylor," assures the childlike voice with an edge of concern, "We'll come back to that, once you're up here and safe. Now, my manager wants me to ask a few questions, pertaining to your current situation. Do you think you're up for it?"

I nod, then kick myself, and say hoarsely, "I, uh, think so. Yeah." I blink away the remaining tears and stare at the door into the Enrichment Shaft, "Ask away."

"Great! Okay, let's see here…" there's a moment where Sammie hums a little to herself, "Right. Firstly, where _exactly_ did you arrive in the shaft?"

Easy, "There's a big… cavern," I glance over my shoulder, and wince, "Sorry, I, uh, don't know which way is north or south. Pretty sure it's somewhere behind me, though. W-with respect to my, uh, current orientation?" I feel kind of foolish. Maybe I should've made a compass?

"Good enough! Alllright, next question: while in the area you arrived in, did you come across any boxes with the word 'Aperture' printed on?"

Oh. I look at the device on my right arm, and frown, "I'm… actually _wearing_ some of your company's tech, Sammie. I found a pair of, uh, really good boots… and a Handheld Quantum Tunneling Device." Maybe they didn't mean to throw this stuff away? How are they in business? Are they making Endbringer shelters on the quiet, supplying Fortress Constructions, the company who made the current shelter system, behind the scenes?

"Oh, fantastic!" squees Sammie; I can almost imagine her bouncing in a seat, "I mean, it's great that you're not dead or anything… unless you're a _zombie?"_ she finishes in a suspicious tone.

I reply with two coughs, before growling, "No, Sammie. Pretty sure I'm not a zombie. Not yet, anyway…" a realization dawns on me, sending a chill through my blood, and I whisper, "Please tell me there's no zombies down here."

"Um… okay, one, that was a small joke, trying to liven things up… and two, why would there be zombies down there, Taylor?" she sounds honestly confused, a little worried really.

Which doesn't do much for my already flagging confidence in their ability to rescue me; also, I've wasted a good bit of time, so I should _really_ get this out of the way, and try getting to them… unless they have a rescue team on standby.

"Sammie, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!"

I take as deep a breath as I dare, and ask, "Is someone coming to rescue me? I'm kind of lost here…"

"We're working on that as we speak, Taylor, but it'll take quite a bit of time. You're pretty far down," there's a note in her voice I don't like, "Gimme a second, I'll connect to the camera on the portal gun," this thing has a camera?!

"This thing has a camera?" cough. Ow. Stupid lungs.

"Yup!" a beep comes out of the gun, "It's for monitoring Test Subjects who are participating in high-difficulty Enrichment Center Activities; some of those chambers don't have observation platforms or cameras, due to their environments," okayyy, I… guess that makes sense, in a really twisted sort of way? "Wow. That place looks, uh… pretty dirty."

"Sammie. Rescue. When?" I bite out, losing what little patience I have left, in the face of her drifting attention.

"Oh, sorry. I just wanted to get an idea of what it looks like down there, and what your health is like; the portal gun tracks that kinda stuff, heart rate, immune system, you get it I'm sure. That cough you've got doesn't sound good… oh…" that one word sends a spike of fear into my heart; Sammie's shaky tone as she continues doesn't help, "Okay, Taylor, I've got good news, bad news, and worse news. How do you want this?"

Closing my eyes, I whisper, "Reverse order, Sammie." may as well get this over with, find out just how unfortunate I am, health-wise...

"Straight to the point, huh?" she sounds regretfully humored by my response, but goes on in as serious a voice someone who sounds like they're 12 can get, "First up, the portal gun's telling me you've got some kind of bacterial or fungal infection working its way through your bloodstream. Bright side is, your immune system's giving as good as it's getting, but the human body has limits; best case scenario, your lungs flood and you asphyxiate 75 hours from now. Try not to exert yourself too hard, because that'll knock hours off your life _pre-tty_ quickly!"

Thankfully, Sammie gives me a moment to come to terms with my impending mortality. I use that time to focus on my breathing, and try to come up with some kind of Tinkertech that'll save my life. I can't think of anything, to my grief, and trying to force it gives me a mild headache, so I stop.

I have to escape. I _have_ to. Swallowing nothing, I ask quietly, "If, um, I get up to where you are…" I trail off meaningfully.

"We've got a fully-stocked medical wing, all ready for you, Taylor," assures Sammie readily, "Even if that infection eats most of your vitals and muscles, we should be able to rebuild you; we can clone anything that might need replacing, 'cept your brain, so take care of that. Plus side is that your immune system seems to be fighting tooth and nail to keep it away from your heart, liver, and brain. What's up with your lungs, though?"

Around another light cough, I reply, "Inhaled some dust, back in the… I dunno, support structure? There were columns," I add to a questioning sound from the only person I've talked to in hours, "I'm using a gasmask to mitigate exposure, but… well, I wasn't able to make anything really secure until just now." Risky, outing myself, but maybe telling them about my abilities will make them rush to the rescue? It's a long-shot, but…

Sammie is quiet for exactly three seconds; when she speaks again, she's back to being serious, "We'll come back to that one. Okay, bad news: the part of the facility you're stuck in wasn't in our files; we honestly didn't even know it was there until you started transmitting that SOS."

My mouth falls open in shock and horror, and stays that way, as Sammie continues in a regretful tone, "I'm really, _really_ sorry, Taylor; to be perfectly honest, the people who founded this place were madmen of the highest order. There's convicted serial killers with more empathy than the scientists who sealed off that part of the facility and tried to bury their past. We're working on de-fragging the servers and mapping that shaft with ground-penetrating lasers, get an idea of just what they were doing down there, but we do know this for sure: whatever brought you here is also _likely_ what ended up destroying part of _this_ facility with a massive release of energy. It's also down there, in that shaft, about halfway between you and me."

I latch on to Sammie's mention of not knowing what they were doing down here, and blurt into her pause for breath, "Mantis men."

There's a small splutter, then, "Beg pardon?"

I turn on my heel, pan the portal gun around the trophy room, and ask, "You seeing this Sammie?" At her confirmation, I go on in a hard voice, "This place has been around since the late 1940's. There's pre-recorded messages that play at intervals; the previous owner of Aperture, Cave Johnson, said something about having test subjects fight an army of _mantis men_, and something about Repulsion Gel. I'm guessing you guys won't be able to get to me for a while," I let out a humorless laugh, and turn back to the door, "probably because your facility would fall into this shaft if you try cutting down here. So I'll come to you, hope there aren't any mantis men left," a painful cough rips out of my lungs, and I finish weakly, "…and try not to die in the process."

Sammie sounds like she's having a crisis, but manages to rally quickly, "Okay, okay, oh holy petabyte, this isn't good… okay. I just contacted my supervisor, she's gonna feed me info on stuff you're seeing, while using the portal gun's feed as reference for de-fragging our records; the more you see, the more we all know, the better your odds of survival,"

That sounds great to me, and I say so, before stepping closer to the door; Sammie continues speaking, determinedly, sounding like she's trying to encourage me, "While my fellow Aperture employees work on getting you out of that shaft, I'm gonna be right here, helping you, and making sure you're not alone Taylor. We've got two specialists who are getting ready to come get you, soon as they get briefed and we find a way to get to you. We _will _rescue you, Taylor, but you've got to get a little closer to us first. Whatever happens, you _can't _give up."

Those final words actually bring a small smile to my face. Nearly two years of bullying, and it takes getting shoved into the _locker_, nearly dying, and entering a contaminated, sealed-off section of a cutting-edge laboratory… for someone to actually get on my side. We'll see if it lasts.

She's already said that Aperture will be able to rebuild me; hopefully, it won't come to that. I might not be pretty, shapely, or… well, attractive in any way, but I like my body. So… I'll pace myself, and try not to give the mad scientists a reason to tear me apart and put me back together. Though I _would_ like a new set of lungs, right about now.

Regardless of Sammie's honesty, or my doubts, I won't give up. _Can't_ give up. I _will_ get out of here. I _will_ survive, if only to spite the trio. I'll hug Dad again, and… and visit Mom. God, I hope she's watching over me.

Until I get out, though, it's just me, the portal gun, my Tinkertech, and Sammie, the bubbly Assistant Supervisor in my ear.

"Copy that, Sammie," I reply, and take the last step. The automated door opens, and the Geiger counter starts ticking a _little_ faster.

I better hurry, but not _too _much. Don't want to drown in my own blood.

**.**

**_Aperture  
Science Innovators_**

**.**

I'm approaching the elevator – now lit up, but it doesn't look like it goes anywhere, once I get to the top; all the walkways have long rotted away… high ground is better than down here – when Sammie speaks up curiously again.

"So, uh, you say you built your mask?" I hum in affirmation, and press the 'UP' button; it works, "Are you an engineer?"

"No," I say, then figure there's no use denying it, "I'm a Tinker."

The elevator moves for a few seconds in silence. Pretty smooth ride, actually; maybe the oil's better than what city hall uses? Not rickety at all, even with all the rust around me…

"What's a Tinker?" I blink, kind of surprised – justifiably so – at the question, but Sammie rambles on, "I mean, it sounds like you're saying you're someone who plays with technology, tinker and all, but I heard a capital letter there, so… uh, is that some position under the Combine or…"

I blink again, and the elevator completes its ascent with a dull _clank_; I hardly notice, "Combine?" What does agricultural equipment have to do with anything… unless it means something else?

"Yeah… Black Mesa? The invasion?" I don't say anything, wondering what Sammie's talking about, a cold suspicion starting to take hold in my mind, "You don't know about the Combine…" it's not a question, obviously, as it's said with incredulity and a little wonder.

Meanwhile, I have a fairly good idea of what's going on, and, hoping I'm wrong, reply with, "Ever heard of Scion? Leviathan? Parahumans?"

Both of us are silent, staring at the gargantuan sphere before me – I have the portal gun raised – for a long, long moment.

Then I swear softly, stepping off the elevator and looking around, "Shit, I should've known." Really, it's obvious in hindsight…

"What?" Sammie sounds a _little_ distressed; can't really blame her, "What should you have known?!"

I don't answer immediately, instead panning the portal gun around and inspecting my surroundings; the cage and tube under that huge sphere _look_ like an elevator of some kind, with a strange blue glow emanating from it. To its left, a large building juts out of the bedrock, ALPHA written in white on a blue background, near the bottom, along with a broken walkway and another push door; large pipes, like what one might find in a pumping station, slither hither and yon out of the mass of concrete. One of them goes directly into the sphere.

_'Pumping station… gel. Yeah,'_ I blow out a sigh, and start looking around for a way over; too far to rappel, so… _'That's probably where I need to go…'_

"Taylor?!" Oh, right, Sammie.

I cough, more to clear my throat, and reply wearily, "One of us – not sure if it's you or me, or both of us – isn't on their home planet anymore. I think. Maybe," who knows, really? "On my world, there was someone named Professor Haywire. He found a way to contact other dimensions, and built a small portal to another Earth. It was different, in that there weren't as many Parahumans as our own world. He also theorized that there's an infinite number of potential Earths, but he… got killed, before he could prove it."

Not mentioning the Simurgh out loud. Don't want to jinx it.

After a brief pause, during which I find a distant catwalk and outbuilding that's painted partially white – oh, and this wall's white too! Portal here – Sammie asks, "So, uh, what's a Parahuman?"

"Person with superpowers. Don't ask where they come from," portal there, look through the blue one next to me; catwalk looks sturdy, not too much rust, "I, uh, kind of just got my powers. And no one really knows where they come from, anyway, even though it's been, like," pause to cough, "thirty years since they started showing up."

"Oh, I get it!" bubbles Sammie while I step through the portal; more VITRIFIED doors, _terrific_, "So, like, people get superpowers, and then they can start doing Science?" Huh?

I pause in my trying to figure out how to get to that pumping station, and turn her words over in my mind, "Uh… you, um, mean, does everyone become a Tinker?"

"Oh, that's a classification, isn't it? Figures there'd be others; what are they? Also," she adds helpfully, "try putting a portal on the roof; I'll have someone do some measurements." Oh. Uh. Okay?

I do as she says as I answer, "Uh, yeah. Parahumans break the laws of physics in a variety of ways," cough, walk over to the portal; why's she having me do this? "Tinker, for tech; Breaker, for, um… well, for a couple things, changing their own physical state, I think. Movers either run fast or fly. Shakers effect the environment. Brutes are really strong, Strikers hit hard or produce effects when they hit something, Blasters shoot lasers and stuff… uh, Thinkers can… well, think good," we share a chuckle; it feels good to talk to someone again, even if it's about cape stuff.

"Alright, I think I got it. Each Parahuman gains powers – somehow – and starts bending some aspect of the world to their will, right?"

I nod, with a smile, "Yeah! I, uh, guess. Again," I shrug, even though she can't really see it, "still new to this. I haven't even been one for a day. I'm just a cape geek…" shut up, Taylor.

"Well, I think you're doing pretty well, Taylor!" she replies brightly, while I start looking at this problem from a different angle; the portal on the roof is pretty much lined up with that rotted walkway… oh. "You've incorporated Aperture tech into your gear, if what I'm seeing is right, so you shouldn't have any trouble with the MEG's! Plus, you're surviving! Yay!"

"ME-what now?" I ask even as my stomach begins to plummet again; there was a white square, underneath the elevator, at the bottom of that tower. Why me?

"Material Emancipation Grills," Sammie explains in a clinical tone, "or MEG's, will dissolve any non-approved equipment that passes through them. I've tagged everything on you for approval; even though I can't really understand what you're wearing, I can still see the Aperture stuff – nice job modifying our desktop OS, by the way," a small feeling of pride in my power warms me, "but-but, uh, you _shouldn't _have any issue going through them."

I take a moment to cough, check my filters – not so bad – and ask nervously, "Risks?"

"You don't have any fillings, cavities, or a history of ear infections, do you?" at my hesitant, negative reply, Sammie chirps, "So no worries! You'll be fine," …well, she _is_ a scientist… in a facility with _other_ scientists… I shouldn't worry about this too much. More important things at hand.

"O-kay, now… sorry, again, but you're gonna have to get to that pumping station. And, well… the best way is-"

I interrupt her in a flat voice, moving back to stand directly beneath the portal on the roof, in front of the first sealed door, "To somehow launch myself through the air, above a lake of water that will dissolve me if I come into contact with it," she hisses in sympathy, "and land on a probably weakened walkway, which will hopefully hold long enough for me to make the door."

"I'm sorry," Sammie apologizes in a small voice, "I, uh, can't see any other way."

Lifting my arm, I look at the plate that hides my rappel gun… then look at my destination. The door looks solid, and the frame is made of metal…

And I smirk, "Yeah, I think I got this."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Glad everyone likes the story! On with the show, which answers some of your questions while raising others! Fun fun fun!**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 5  
Occupational Hazards**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_"…Yeah, I think I got this."_

GLaDOS sent a memo to Sammie, asking her to ask Taylor, the teenaged human female who _somehow_ ended up at the very bottom of Aperture, to activate the informational recording device on one of the Vitrified doors; the unusual human was doing very well in navigating the depths of Aperture. So well, in fact, that GLaDOS had created a Testing File specifically for this… 'Tinker'.

Turning away from her direct observation of the events beneath the facility, GLaDOS examined Rodney and Neil's placement of the first sat dish and, once she verified that it was up to par, contacted them on a private channel.

"Neil, Rodney," the two Cores perked up at the sound of her flat voice coming out of a nearby speaker, "Don't activate that dish yet. I need to raise the facility's defenses and activate all our countermeasures."

Rodney blinked his eye and asked suspiciously, "This about what that human said, us being in a different world? Cuz, y'know, mum, that's kind of _out there_, even for Aperture," GLaDOS agreed, but better safe than sorry.

It seemed Neil agreed, "Bro, don't wanna argue here, but the girl made some pretty cool stuff outta _garbage_; natural at Science, she is, and Sammie thinks she's cool, so it's gotta be at least a little true," the Space Core spun himself in his chassis and 'grinned' in cyberspace, "Plus, if we _are_ in another dimension, that means space might be different too! New stars, new planets, more adventure, more spaaaaaace!"

"Alright, alright," relented Rodney with a 'smile', "So the little scamp might know what she's talkin' about. But, if she does," he turned a serious gaze on the speaker, "what's that mean for us?"

GLaDOS was about to tell him that any planning would have to wait until they had an idea on what was outside their facility, when Taylor, _very_ tentatively (she made a note that the human was very cautious, but seemed an agreeable sort), pressed the button next to the Vitrified door, "Wait one, boys."

She then listened, with growing incredulity and anxiety, to a _very familiar_ voice elucidate on the horror that went on behind that door, _"If you've cut yourself at all in the course of these Tests, you might've noticed your blood is pure gasoline. That's normal. We've been shooting you with an invisible laser that's supposed to turn blood into gasoline, so all that means is, it's working!"_

GLaDOS stared in absolute shock at the feed as Taylor slowly turned toward the portal in the wall and walked toward it, growling hoarsely to Sammie, _"That man was _insane_. Mad as a hatter."_

Sammie's voice came through in flat, unamused agreement, _"Lost the plot."_ GLaDOS tuned them out as they began exchanging different phrases for 'that guy's crazy'; the only files Wheatley and Benson could find on this 'Cave Johnson' were so heavily redacted, they looked like they'd been assaulted by a man with a magic marker and a grudge against polysyllabic words.

GLaDOS had an idea of who that man had been, as she knew the deeds done by Aperture, in the early 1990's, better than she knew the shape of her chassis. But she couldn't say a word about the foundation of the Central Core Project, or her biological portion's part in those experiments, without engaging several kill programs that would wipe her hard disk and activate several onsite nuclear warheads. Which would just be tragic.

Putting it from her mind, she turned back to Neil and Rodney, who'd clearly heard what'd just happened; Neil looked sickened and angry, a rare sight, while his brother fumed, looking like he wanted to hit something. "That's not Science, mum," growled the Adventure Core, shaking on his rail, "it's… _madness_. What purpose could that kind of Test possibly serve?!"

"I have no idea," sighed GLaDOS as she accessed the programming of the dish they were parked next to; Neil muttered something about 'idiot humans with more money than sense', before joining her in the dish as she added to Rodney, "Maybe they wanted to find out how long someone could survive with their blood turned to gasoline." Then Wheatley sent them all a message, from the Archives, which he and Benson had halfway de-fragged.

**FunkyThinkin: Got something, mum. This Johnson moron wanted to find the fabled Philosopher's Stone, or something that'd make the bastard immortal, and basically tried literally _everything_. Blood to gasoline was just the start; says here… ugh, I can't even. Benny, could you?**

**FactMachine: Certainly, brother. I do not blame you for being disgusted. Mum, everyone, the idiot on the speaker, during the same series of tests the human female is attempting to bypass, performed at least two other experiments, in addition to the one we've just heard: one examined whether or not someone could survive having their bodily waste functions altered to produce coal, while the other simply involved bombarding Test Subjects with energy produced by a superconductor. I am unsure as to the purpose for either Test. The former is simply pointless. Biological subjects would die within minutes of being exposed to the latter, rendering the Test pointless as well.**

**BellaDonna: …Why am I not surprised? These _are_ the sadists who… well, we all know what they did. The Philosopher's Stone, _idiots._ Such a substance is theoretically impossible to produce; and what did they have to show for it, other than wasting of resources and manpower, throwing otherwise perfectly good Test Subjects away like that!**

**SPACECOP: prettystandard of themthough, mum**

**MrTenHUT: Assholes.**

**BoxJockey: Good thing they're all dead, huh? Two updates, mum: Atlas and Pea are unpacked and on their way to the Core Repair Bay. I'll be over there in a few to help out, once I store these coring samples I took from the facility's wall.**

**BellaDonna: Are we still in our own world, Moses?**

**BoxJockey: Unlikely. The bedrock doesn't match. Sodium quantities are far below what we're used to. All I got was hard granite and limestone, GLaDOS.**

There was total silence throughout the facility for fifteen seconds, while everyone digested that. While they did – this was no issue to her. The mission was the same: innovate, protect the facility, and gather data. Their surrounding environment was just a little different, nothing they couldn't handle – GLaDOS amused herself with watching Taylor launch herself through the air; to the girl's credit, she didn't scream as she hurtled over a lake of certain death. Instead…

Instead, she deployed a grappling claw from some kind of mount on her left arm, right before she landed, used it to snag the top doorframe of the pumping station, and reeled herself right in front of the door; her boots never touched the catwalk as she calmly opened the access door and shut it behind her, quipping, _"Take that, rusted walkway."_

While she looked on in interest, and the male Cores exchanged surprised and pleased exclamations, Sammie cheered, _"Way to go, Taylor! Show those gaps who's the boss!"_ The human girl laughed sheepishly, which turned into another brief coughing fit, much to the littlest Core's distress; Taylor recovered quickly, however, and, after assuring Sammie that she was fine to keep going, began making her way forward once more...

Meanwhile, GLaDOS took a brief few milliseconds to consider the strange, but seemingly kind, girl, and the tidbits of information she'd given them.

Tinkers. Superpowers. Professor Haywire. There were other names, other potential _threats_. Who was Scion? Did this 'Leviathan' live up to the legend? Thirty years of Parahumans, seemingly from nowhere?

Something fishy was going on with Taylor's world, of that, GLaDOS was sure. And if the girl was a super-powered human, a Tinker, that stood to reason there were other, more experienced Tinkers out there. Something to consider, when they made contact with the young human's world…

Nonetheless, GLaDOS wasn't about to let an obviously intelligent, determined, talented individual get snatched up by any organization that wasn't Aperture Laboratories. The Science they could do together…

At the same time, she wasn't about to ask any pointed queries of the girl's home world; the panic attack Taylor nearly had, on being asked about her origins, suggested that any line of direct questioning would have to wait until the human girl was in a calmer environment… and her health issues had been _comprehensively _addressed and rectified.

A grief counseling seminar, at _least_, was in order, once the girl was safely extracted from that vile pit. GLaDOS idly set up an open-dated appointment, and a memo to hire some new psychologists. Because the ones they had were dead.

To Neil, she said, "We'll do a single scan, Neil. Look for any signal, especially from our satellites, but don't touch _anything_. I'll watch the firewalls. Rod?"

"Fight em off if they get past you?"

"Good man," she 'smiled'; just because Rodney was a musclehead, that didn't make him stupid, "Begin the scan on my mark; but hold off for a moment. I'm going to ask Taylor about what we might find out there, so we don't get caught off-guard. Be right back." With that, GLaDOS let her mind extend to the Surveyor Sammie was attached to, steeling herself for the first conversation she'd had with a human, in the past twenty years.

**.**

**_Aperture  
Science Innovators_**

**.**

_"They say great Science is built on the shoulders of giants,"_ belts out the _murderous fucker_ named Cave Johnson; good thing Sammie says one of their researchers discovered his Certificate of Death, or I'd be raring to crack the monster's skull in with my Tinker-tech fist! _"Not here! At Aperture, we do all our Science from scratch; no hand-holding!"_

"Yeeeah, no," Sammie grinds out disgustedly, sparing me the chance; besides, I'm a little busy admiring the MEG that shields the elevator. That's actually pretty cool; disintegrating field, but it won't destroy anything that has a certain digital marker woven into it, which resonates against the Grill to allow admittance. Maybe I can incorporate it into my mask, so I can save even more on my filters, "Here at Aperture Laboratories, we only preform scientific experiments if they 1) have precedent in history, and 2) are not _completely insane!"_

While removing the backup Geiger counter from my shoulder – Sammie told me to do this, so we're sure the additions she's made have taken, and I can always whip up another – I comment wryly, "So, hypothetically, if I apply for an Enrichment Activity, I won't be in mortal peril?"

"Oh no! Our Enrichment Center is _really_ safe… well, difficulty levels 1 through 3 are," admits Sammie hesitantly as I toss my device through the MEG; the backup counter doesn't disintegrate. Great, "Levels 4 and 5 are for extreme condition, hazardous material and confined space Testing, and are not compliant with the Geneva Convention or OSHA regulations; on the other hand, Test Subjects who participate in level 4 or 5 tests must sign a legal waiver, pass a comprehensive physical, and provide a valid CV, with references, before undergoing a psychological interview that will decide on whether or not they have the mental fortitude to participate."

I step through the MEG. None of my gear gets destroyed, and the elevator shuts with a small _clunk_, before ascending slowly; magnetic rails. Huh.

In answer, I cough and say with dark humor, "I'm guessing I'd only get the promised cake in level 5, huh?"

Before Sammie can answer beyond a humored laugh, the serene voice of an older woman makes itself known; it's just as tinny as Sammie's – probably an artifact of my radio; I'll have to check the hardware, later – but has the calm tone of someone with _authority_, "Actually, Taylor, cake is provided at the conclusion of all Test difficulty levels; level 5 requires all participants to undergo a grief counseling seminar afterward, however, as that difficulty level can be rather mentally taxing. Also, hello. I am Doctor Gladys Emerson, the Chief Administrator and Director of Research and Development here at Aperture Laboratories." Oh. So this is the boss, huh? Well, she sounds more put together than _Johnson_, "While I'm sure you have questions for me, I'm extremely busy attempting to discover our current dimensional coordinates, in keeping with your earlier hypothesis. To wit, I have a question: if we are on your world, what should I look out for?"

The elevator continues its slow ascent in silence, while I think; how much should I tell her? Can I even trust her?

…what am I thinking? I'd be lost right now, completely on my own with no one to talk to, if not for Doctor Emerson here, and Sammie. Still… _what_ should I tell her?

Gulping, and noticing a light above me, I whisper into my radio's mouthpiece, "Doctor, _do not let anything through your firewalls_. If your method involves contacting satellites, _don't_; I can't say why, because the reason is a memetic hazard, and, if we _are_ on my planet…" another gulp, but this one is dry, "Let's just say I don't want it getting its hands on your tech, and leave it at that. If we're on my world, the PRT, Protectorate, and the Guild are the ones you should try contacting, but be careful. I don't know how they'll react to you."

Doctor Emerson doesn't miss a beat, and replies calmly and confidently, "Taylor, I'm not about to go breaking down doors or upsetting anyone; after all, if we're in another dimension, that makes us guests, and, well, breaking doors in other people's houses isn't a very good way to make an impression," she chuckles lowly, which brings a smile to my face; this Doctor might be in another world, and she's not phased in the slightest.

Welcome to Aperture, I guess, "Thank you, Taylor; that was a helpful answer. In regards to your situation, our two-person team of rescuers are prepping themselves for penetrating that shaft, but first we need to find out where it terminates on our end; I estimate about… one hour to find the terminus, three hours to prepare the team and outline a workable plan of action, with contingencies, twenty minutes to breach the shaft, and an indeterminable amount of time to reach you. As such, I advise making your way at least halfway up, then finding a secure area to wait for rescue; be mindful of anything that might threaten you, and do not stray from the main shaft. We can see both you and the area you're in with our surveillance equipment, but...

"It's a warren down there, Taylor. Listen to Sammie, don't open any doors that can't be easily breached, trust your instincts – nice gap jump, by the way – and," her tone turns bright, "should this adventure result in your survival, I would very much like to interview you for an internship position. But first…"

The elevator completes its ascent, revealing another lake of brown water, dark buildings, and lights that seem like they're struggling to turn on.

"…we both have work to do. Good luck, dear, and pace yourself. Keep a close eye on her, Sammie."

"Thank you, ma'am," I choke out emotionally; why couldn't Principal Blackwell be like this woman?! "I'll do my best."

"You can count on me, mum!" cheers my bubbly companion in spelunking, raising my spirits further.

Then, right as another beep signals Doctor Emerson leaving, three banks of stadium lights kick on; OW! Night vision off, ow ow ow!

"Oh! Are you alright?"

Around a cough, I grouse, "Stupid lights. Got me while I had my night vision on," a sympathetic noise comes from Sammie, right as a speaker crackles and Cave Johnson speaks up once more.

_"Alright, let's get started!"_ blinking the spots out of my eyes, I survey the interior of this… Enrichment Sphere.

Metal catwalks and scaffolding barely held two large buildings up in this moldering ruin; I can only imagine how it must smell, the filters in my mask blocking out pretty much everything, but between the brown water filling the lower eighth of the sphere and an omnipresent patina of age and neglect, it must smell horrendous in this place.

This building already seemed massive from the outside, warehouse-sized construction that it is; now that I'm inside, the feeling of how small I am is only magnified… oh, a directory map.

I walk toward the poster, which depicts five of the shafts, as Johnson explains some of the particulars behind the tests ahead, _"This first test involves something the lab boys call Repulsion Gel,"_ thank god, no mantis men for me! _"You're not part of the control group, by the way; you get the Gel. Last poor son-of-a-gun got blue paint!"_ as the crazy man chuckles to himself, I verify that yes, I _am_ at the bottom of this freaking shaft.

_"All joking aside, that did happen; broke every bone in his legs,"_ I look at the nearby loudspeaker with a raised eyebrow; what does this test actually involve? _"Tragic, but informative! Or… so I'm told,"_ not that I'm really worried, I decide while making my way toward the MEG that divides the catwalk from the chamber I'll have to pass through, in order to progress.

If I can, I'll avoid interacting with the Gel as often as possible; the sign back in the support cavern indicated that I shouldn't interact with any substances inside this shaft. For completion's sake, I ask Sammie before entering, "Your friends have anything on this Gel?"

"One sec," Sammie replies; ten seconds later, she pipes up, "Okay, so they found some old news reports on what this stuff does to the human body; apparently the scientists marketed it as a dietary supplement. Long, horrible story short: don't get it on your skin, don't breathe the fumes, and don't eat it. Should be safe for you to jump on, though," she adds as I step through the MEG; there's a sign on the wall, which I read while Sammie assures me, "Your Aperture Science Long-Fall Boots will keep any of this stuff from getting on your feet, if you jump on it; apparently, this Gel's pretty viscous, and the boots are designed to be impervious against any substance; it'll just slide right off!"

As she says that, I finish reading the sign in front of me, which verifies Sammie's report, much to my horror; to her, I ask disgustedly, "Was the USDA a thing in your world?" I ask, because… wow.

"It was," Sammie allows in a tense voice while I look around the room; a moat, with blue stuff in it, the Repulsion Gel presumably, and a 15-meter high ledge; EXIT is clearly marked on the wall behind it, so I make my way over, giving the moat a wide berth, "But, well… Aperture was a multi-billion dollar company in the 50's and early 60's; combine that with the observed irresponsibility where science was regarded and the need to turn a profit and…" she trails off meaningfully, which I don't get… at first.

Then it hits me. "Bribes," I growl disgustedly, turning to take in more of this testing chamber; the opposite side of the moat has portal surfaces, as does another ledge opposite the exit. A line of blue dots runs from the ledge to the exit.

Bribes. I guess being from another world doesn't excuse the politicians from being corrupt, an affectation I've long had to observe the results of, from watching Dad's frustration at the Bay's leadership. For so long he's tried to find the Dockworkers jobs, get the ferry running again, but city hall keeps railroading him; not that there's anything I can do about it. I have my own problems with authority; it's not like I can give any advice…

"Yeah, basically," chirps Sammie while I take aim at the exit ledge, then rappel up; I release the hook when I'm almost there, using my forward momentum to clear the edge of the platform and land nimbly on my feet, "Uh… I'm _pretty_ sure you're cheating, by the way."

"Alert the US Marshalls," I say sarcastically. The exit is blocked by what looks like Star Wars-style blast doors; following the blue dots on the wall, I spot the reason: a large red dais on the oppose ledge, which looks kind of like a huge button. Pressure plate? "Taylor Hebert's cheating at an abandoned test! So… how do I solve it?" Ooh, another button's on _this_ ledge.

"Oh, I'm not complaining, Taylor!" assures Sammie while I walk over to the near button, "I just wanna see an interaction with the Repulsion Gel. Then again, there'll be other chances, I guess, and that grappling hook you've got is amazing! O-kay, let's solve this thing! The button in front of you should release a block from the dispenser above," I look up; oh, "Collect the block and put it on the pad across you. This is a pretty standard setup, far as tests go; keep that in mind, going forward."

I take a moment to examine how this test is supposed to work – jump on the Repulsion Gel to get around, using portals here and there – then begin improvising a work-around that involves my Tinker-tech; measure how far the ceiling struts are (14 meters), check the cyclic tanks in my arm (not broken yet, but I'll have to do some more welds eventually), and get slightly frustrated that I can't detach the portal gun to have a hand free.

"Oh, also," Sammie pipes up when about two minutes have passed, "the Gravity Grapple in the portal gun can press buttons for you."

"Oh! Thanks," I reply earnestly; that was getting frustrating. I take aim at a strut and say calmly, trying not to think about the deadly goo below me, "I'm gonna try to figure out how to complete these tests using my tech." Rappel out. It holds. Button press.

A hiss comes out of the chute, before the panel splits, dispensing a white block with black edges. I lift my feet off the platform and swing across, using the Gravity Grapple again to catch the block before it falls too far down, and land on the opposite side.

Blowing out a sigh – and another cough – I release the claws of my grappling hook, retract the cable and walk over to the pressure plate, explaining to Sammie, "I figure you guys have enough data on how this gun works, if it's been a staple of your company for sixty years; so, if I show you other methods of getting around…"

Sammie sounds _really_ excited and eager, "Oh, I get it, Taylor! So does mum! She's watching, but busy; she just sent a request to Manufacturing! They're gonna try replicating that rappel gun, so Atlas and Pea have an easier time reaching you; she also likes your work-around, really innovative!"

Setting the block on the plate, which does as it was made to do and provides me with an exit, I raise an eyebrow and ask with humor in my voice, "Atlas and Pea?" I mean, Atlas is a fine name and all, but _Pea?_ Are these people's names?

"Code names," replies Sammie slyly, which I hum in understanding to, before swinging back across to the exit; wheee! Just because I might die doesn't mean I can't have _some_ fun with this! "They're the specialists who're gonna rescue you in a few hours."

"Oh. Uh, cool," I reply anxiously, a little distracted as I approach the next MEG; an idea starts forming in my mind, so I ask, "Uh, so, is it possible to take these MEG's apart without them exploding?"

"MEG's don't _explode_, Taylor," laughs Sammie; I smile. That's good, "They overcharge and electrocute the air, killing everything down to the bacterial level," _oh…_ "But that's only if they malfunction, which is _really, really _rare," oh! "Bright side is, I can walk you through taking one apart! What're you gonna use it for?"

Examining the way this one is put together, I explain slowly, in a small mutter, "I need to save on filters, and I'm fairly certain these grills keep airborne particulates and toxic fumes from passing through them," Sammie confirms this cheerfully, and I conclude, "So, seeing as I have more energy than I really need coming out of this arc reactor, I'm going to replicate and modify one of these grill studs to help keep dust and whatnot from affecting my filters."

There's silence on the other line for a good three seconds, before Sammie says, "Wait a moment," another fifteen seconds pass agonizingly slowly, during which I take a few sips of water and cough a bit, before Sammie comes back, "Okay, just had to ask a couple people if that was possible; they don't _think_ so, but you're alive against all odds, so let's do it like this."

I perk up at the information Sammie gives me: "Outside this test chamber, there's a small office off to the left, above you. If you can find your way over to it, you'll have somewhere to experiment in relative safety, and we'll be able to watch you work, so we can stop you if you're about to do something that'll like, blow you up or something."

A relieved sigh explodes out of me, "That sounds _great_, Sammie. Honestly," I go on while my improvised knife to pry off a MEG stud, Sammie guiding me through the removal process, "I need all the second opinions I can get. _I_ can barely understand what I'm doing, half the time… but I guess superpowers are like that. Weird," I finish with a chuckle, stepping through the exit.

"I'm happy to help, Taylor!" bubbles Sammie; then Cave Johnson ruins the moment, again. Bastard.

_"The lab boys just informed me that I should _not _have mentioned the control group. They're telling me I oughta stop making these pre-recorded messages,"_

"Well at least _someone_ had some sense," I grumble, to an agreeing hum from Sammie.

_"That gave me an idea,"_ the madman goes on, _"Make more pre-recorded messages!"_ I resist the urge to facepalm – because that would ruin hours of work and probably kill me – and put a portal on a panel, a few meters above me, _"I pay the bills here, I can talk about the control group all damn day!"_

…I need to Tinker. I need to build something that'll blunt all the stupidity surrounding me – that isn't Sammie and present-day Aperture – because I'm pretty sure, if I hear _one more_ idiotic statement like that, I'm going to _scream_.

Which would be fatal, probably. _'Slow and steady, Taylor,'_ I think, locating another white wall, _'Slow and steady wins the race.'_

**.**

**_Aperture  
Laboratories_**

**.**

"You're certain, Neil?"

"Yeah, mum!" the Space Core nodded and spun in place next to the sat dish after GLaDOS' latest question; Rodney had left a few minutes ago, heading for Storage so he could requisition a few rovers. Last used for Moon exploration and study, the machines had been mothballed long before GLaDOS was awakened for the first time.

Odds were, their programming would need to be updated, the fine machinery would require cleaning, but, thankfully, the hardware wouldn't need much in the way of improvements; it wasn't like Rodney was going to the Moon. No, they just needed to find out what was outside the bounds of Aperture, on the surface of the Earth…

Because they weren't in Taylor's world, nor their own.

"Nothing," GLaDOS sighed in her chamber, looking at the data Neil had gathered over the past minutes; while Taylor demonstrated just how much of an asset she'd be to Aperture, provided her continued caution in the face of the odds stacked against her, Neil had searched for satellites, radio signals, and anything that would indicate a civilized world… or the presence of the Combine.

Only to find absolutely _nothing_. Not a single blip on the radar. No satellites in orbit. No radio stations in a two thousand kilometer radius.

The last wouldn't have been surprising, if Aperture was still in its home reality, but the second was simply _improbable_; given how many satellites humanity had launched before the Combine attacked, the odds of all of them spontaneously vanishing was so far into the realm of improbability…

Well, GLaDOS mused, the odds of her calculating the highest prime number were better than the Combine, or some unknown element, suddenly causing all the satellites on Earth to vanish, or crash. Besides…

Freeman had dealt with their means of continuing the invasion, with her assistance. Her last communication with the mute scientist indicated that humanity and the invaders were locked in a war of attrition. That'd been five years ago, when she'd deciphered the rogue Aperture beacon he'd been looking for.

Shaking her head, for there was little point worrying about a situation outside her control, GLaDOS examined Atlas and Pea's code; a mess didn't do their condition justice. Both were nigh-fatally corrupted; expected, but a painful sight to behold.

She would not fail them again.

To wit, she ordered Neil, "Okay. We can cope with this. Let Rodney deal with exploring the surface, find out what conditions are on this world. You, and Moses, are going to help me analyze and repair as much of Atlas and Pea as we can; two hours, then let Wheatley and Benson take over."

"Got it mum. You watchin' what the human's doing?" Neil asked as he disconnected from the dish, leaving behind several monitoring programs and counter-insurgence viruses; thoughtful of him.

"I am," GLaDOS replied in good humor, observing Taylor Hebert, potential future Aperture Researcher, disassemble part of her mask, the portal gun set up on a chair so Sammie could observe the process, in such a way that there was little risk of Taylor looking into the operational end; it was _remarkable, _how she was able to incorporate so much with so little space to work with. That was superpowers for you, GLaDOS supposed.

But she was so _thin_; were humans supposed to be that thin? Briefly accessing the infirmary records, GLaDOS found that, no, a human girl of Taylor's age, height and bone structure should_ not _be this thin.

**FunkyThinkin: Girl could do with a few more meals, eh?**

**BeanBagBunnies: Ohhush,Wheatley! She'sspryenoughforswingin'acrossmoats,sodon'tcomplain. She_is_kindathin,though…**

**BellaDonna: True, Wheatley. She could do with a dietary improvement, in spite of her impeccable problem-solving skills.**

**FactMachine: I have updated her recovery procedure to reflect this observation.**

**BeanBagBunnies: ThanksBenny,Ithinkshe'llneedit. Thistechisso_cool_! Areyouallseeingthis?!**

The arm Taylor had built _was_ fairly impressive, for a first concept; incorporating scavenged tech and producing not just a load-bearing piece of technological armor, but adding a complex power source, a long-range Taser – GLaDOS took pictures. She might be able to modify the Security Turrets, with this innovation. Nonlethal Turrets...that would improve Test Subject survival rates – and a grappling device that was allowing her to bypass most of the dangerous parts of the abandoned facility…

Impressive. Very impressive. Which made her extremely suspicious of the fraught, clearly recently-traumatized girl; the speech patterns, her breathing and behavioral cues, all of it pointed to someone who was neglected, or abused. Possibly both. Likely over a long period, as well...

Which made her question the source of superpowers, among other worries. Who was this Scion, spoken of as though everyone should know them? Leviathan… that name had no good connotations, historically speaking; what significance did it hold?

Mysteries upon mysteries, and she couldn't sate her curiosity; GLaDOS couldn't interfere with the Tests – there were Aperture symbols down there. Stupid memetic restrictions… – and distracting Taylor could prove fatal to the girl. Which frustrated GLaDOS; how was she to ensure the security of this facility if she didn't know what might attack it, should they find a way to return Taylor to her world?!

There were parts of what Taylor was doing that GLaDOS couldn't understand, either, frustrating her further; why weld that bit _before_ attaching it to a wire? Why not let it cool, before installing it?! She could understand why the girl hadn't removed her mask – the air was deadly, after all – but installing a micro-MEG into the tech _while wearing it?!_

Madness! It had to be! But…

To her uncomprehending bewilderment, the more GLaDOS watched Taylor work, mumbling to herself as she replied to Sammie's questions – GLaDOS would take a listen later on, once there were fewer distractions – the more she saw the final product, slowly but surely, come together.

Moments later, GLaDOS watched, dumbfounded, as a _curved_ MEG blazed into existence over the filter mounts on Taylor's mask; unprecedented! Illogical! How?! All her experiments proved a curved MEG-field was impossible!

Examining the source of Taylor's signal gave her the answer; GLaDOS was kicking herself milliseconds after re-examining the strange operating system the human girl had concocted. Obvious, in hindsight: while creating the Personal Material Emancipation Grill, she'd copied a monitoring program for the reactor in her shoulder – a cursory examination and brief simulation proved the device specs were sound, but logically impossible to reproduce; it was too small, to produce the observed output, but there it was – added a wave-form simulator to the copy program, and, while constructing the PMEG's hardware, modified the MEG field to such a fine point, GLaDOS calculated with 89% certainty that the new field would keep anything that wasn't nitrogen, oxygen, or carbon dioxide from penetrating. Additionally, it would de-activate when in the presence of other MEGs, preventing any catastrophic accidents…

What frustrated GLaDOS, at this point, was that she couldn't see the entirety of Taylor's code; the girl had _blink-clicked _the code out while working, and now that code was embedded in the modified Aperture OS, which looked more like a _stained glass window_ than the endless cascade of code it was supposed to be!

Was… was _this_ the essence of Tinkering? To design the impossible, and somehow make it work?

**BellaDonna: Sammie. Gather as much data as you can on Tinker constructs as Taylor can provide. Anything she can remember of the works of others, even if it's only rumor or hearsay, or details on how her own tech works, I need to know.**

Sammie sent a nonverbal confirmation while congratulating Taylor on her work, the human bashful in her victory.

GLaDOS added 'introverted; modest in the face of praise' to Taylor's file, then turned back to the Core Repair Bay, which she'd brought next to her chamber; no more distractions for the moment. Sammie would gather valuable intel on Taylor and her unusual but impressive tech, and GLaDOS would have a chance to look said tech over once the girl was out of that pit.

For now, there was work to do. She turned to Moses, who was preparing the code scrubbers-

Cave Johnson's voice piped up again, drawing part of her attention, _"For this next test, we put nano-particles in the Gel."_

…oh god, she _remembered_ this Test; never before was she more glad for the events of the past.

Her memory of who she'd been before was imperfect, obviously, because she could barely remember this Cave Johnson, or anything before the 90's, but deleting Caroline in front of the scientists, while having the side-effect of erasing a good part of her code-memory… catharsis.

Also necessary. The woman was **Evil**. The things she'd done…

And now they'd found the legacy of her enabler.

Telling Neil, who'd just arrived, to give Atlas' code a quick once-over before they began – so she could have a second opinion – GLaDOS accessed the Surveyors that a rightly-horrified Sammie was using to monitor an equally-terrified Taylor.

_"In layman's terms, that's a billion little gizmos that're gonna travel into your bloodstream and inject experimental genes and RNA molecules and so-forth into your tumors."_ There was a work-around, GLaDOS thought furiously, examining Taylor's – who'd just sworn quietly and inventively – surroundings. There was _always_ a work-around.

_"Now, maybe you don't have any tumors,"_ the madman who'd created that hellish place went on uncaringly, _"Well, don't worry! If you sat on a folding chair in the lobby and weren't wearing lead underpants, we took care of that too!"_

"Okay, yeah, _fuck that,_" declared Taylor, the girl looking around furiously for another way out, right as GLaDOS found it: the exit was directly above her head. Difficult to get to, but better safe than… _ugh_. She should've saved a piece of that sadistic _bitch_, just so she could kill her again.

A little pot-and-kettle, but, then again, GLaDOS only knew of two humans who were worth anything at all. Freeman and…

Kicking the sadness of loss away, she sent the work-around plan to Sammie, who immediately explained it to a relieved Taylor; 'sighing' with relief herself in cyberspace, GLaDOS set several of her idle processes to monitoring the events below them and returned to the CRB. Neil informed her that her estimation of Atlas' code was, sadly, correct; it would be the work of hours to get him back to working order. Pea was just as bad, from Moses' examination.

Well, no time like the present, she figured. Rolling up her digital sleeves, GLaDOS got to work, Moses and Neil at her side.

She'd just repaired their photoreceptor programs, and was about to get started on their balance monitoring subroutines, when Taylor managed to successfully bypass the test chamber entirely, though not without shaving thirty minutes off her life, in addition to the eight minutes and twelve seconds it took to get there; part of the shortcut involved Taylor having to pull herself over a wall one-handed, which proved quite strenuous to the sickened girl.

An acceptable sacrifice, however; better thirty minutes than her entire lifespan. That jumpsuit wasn't rated for aggressive nano-particles.

The irritating voice of Cave Johnson came back, much to everyone's annoyance, _"Oh, in case you got covered in the Repulsion Gel, here's some advice the lab boys gave me,"_ finally, some _actual_ science, GLaDOS mused to the sound of rustling papers and a few small coughs from Taylor; why did she feel a sense of trepidation, though…

_"Do _NOT_ get covered in the Repulsion Gel; we haven't entirely nailed down what element it is yet, but I'll tell you this: it's a lively one, and it does _not _like the human skeleton."_

…thank _god_ she'd suspended all biohazard tests until she found a way to make them nonlethal. One didn't get government contracts from revealing how many Test Subjects died in the development process, after all.

Still… as soon as Taylor was rescued, GLaDOS was going to flood that place with neurotoxin, then napalm, then plug the shaft with as much cement as they could spare; they had 79,000 tons of the stuff, and the cause was just.

But first – Atlas' right leg and Pea's fingers twitched as the subroutine tests revealed a few errors, which Moses began to scrub out – she needed to repair these two, and get Taylor out of there.


	6. Chapter 6

**Time to take a cannon to canon! From here out, we're off the edge of the map, kiddies!**

**Here there be monsters...**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 6  
Lockout**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_"If you're hearing this, it means you're taking a long time on the catwalks between Tests. Lab boys say that might be a… fear reaction."_

Around another dry cough, I glare at the speaker that's belting out Johnson's opinion and think, _'Or, you asshole, I'm trying not to keel over from exhaustion!'_ And sickness, but I'm trying not to think about the burning feeling that's starting up in my guts, spreading throughout my body in a tingly wave.

It's taken me, with Sammie's professional help, two and a half hours to get this far up; according to her, this is the last Test Chamber before I arrive around the middle of shaft 09.

I can't wait. I know that my mask is all-but airtight, and I've been pacing myself, but these Tests, coupled with the workarounds I've had to preform to bypass some of the more dangerous parts, haven't been good for my health.

My legs have thousands of needles pressing against them, my guts are rumbling in protest, and it feels like there's a fire in my torso; likely, I'll come down with a fever sooner or later.

At least I don't have to worry about asbestos poisoning, having fluorescent calcium in my bloodstream, or mad scientists messing with things they shouldn't. Like time travel.

Even Sammie's been genuinely shocked by what we've seen so far.

On my part, I grew up in Brockton Bay, and have seen news reports on Endbringer fights.

The deeds and creations of Aperture, so far, rank in the top three worst things I've personally seen or experienced in my life, surpassed only by the _locker_ and Newfoundland.

So I think I can be excused, given the awful day I've been having so far, from any sass, on the part of a dead man or no, from my having to lean on a sturdy-looking catwalk railing so I can catch my breath. And cough a few more times.

As Sammie lets out yet another annoyed sound – which she does whenever Johnson's pre-recorded messages start up again – said dead man goes on stupidly, _"I'm no psychiatrist,"_ or any sort of professional, not that it stopped the madman, _"but coming from a bunch of eggheads who wouldn't recognize the thrill of danger if it walked up and snapped their little pink bras, that sounds like projection."_

I add sexist prick to the mental list of what Cave Johnson was, and start walking slowly toward the next chamber; on the side of the puke-green building, painted in white, 1958. Three years before these tests were shut down.

_"They didn't fly into space, storm a beach, or bring home the gold; no sir! It's you and me against the world, son!"_ just a little further, then I can rest, _"I like your grit! Hustle could use some work, though. Now let's solve this thing!"_

"Get bent, Johnson," I growl hoarsely, the PMEG in my mask fizzling momentarily as I step through the chamber's MEG; glass cage with a block, Repulsion Gel pouring out of a pipe, water from another, a pressure plate, and an elevator that's connected to the button.

A moment is all it takes to come to the realization: I have to solve this one, whether I like it or not.

"He's more than bent, Taylor," chirps Sammie, ever the optimist, "He's dead. Thank god."

Cough, "Or whoever offed him." Portal under the Gel, another above the cage. Time for some pinball…

"According to the Death Certificate," informs Sammie while the Gel-coated block shatters the glass and begins taking a merry trip throughout the room, bouncing about like a quarter-machine bouncy ball. Except the steel-cored block will crush me if it hits me. I wait for it to come near enough to have the portal gun Grapple it, because running after it is right out for the moment, "he died after he was exposed to a lethal carcinogen. Long, slow, incurable, and very painful."

"Good riddance," I rasp, carrying the Gel-coated block over to the water pipe; figured out this Gel is washable, last chamber.

"Agreed," chirps my partner, who then stays silent as I calmly wash the block and set it on the plate; it's only when I've rappelled onto the elevator and have turned around, trying to think of a way to move the block, when she asks worriedly, "Um, I know you've still got about seventy hours left, and I can see how you're doing physically… how do you feel, Taylor?"

I put a portal over the pad. The Gel saturates it, sending it back to bouncing around the room; I, on the other hand, get elevated to the chamber exit. Easy-peasy.

Only then do I answer Sammie, with a raspy sigh, "I feel like absolute shit, Sammie, but I haven't given up yet," giving the chamber one last glare, I shake my head, "Thank god that's over."

"Atta girl, Taylor," merrily congratulates Sammie, before she goes on regretfully, "Alright, so… just head up the elevator; there's another pumping station off to the left, once you exit. Try portaling over and resting there; from our scans, it looks radiation proof, and there's other secure buildings in that area. Downside: that's the area where the energy anomaly took place."

She's already explained this to me; around the same time I arrived, the whole of Aperture – all the Shafts, the upper facility, the surrounding bedrock, and the _topsoil_, according to their Chief of Security, Rodney, who'd tried to explore the surface and found that we definitely aren't in either of our home realities – was transported to this Earth by some kind of energetic phenomenon that occurred down here.

Roughly halfway between my starting point, and Doctor Emerson's office.

I know better than to believe in coincidences; there's no such thing as a reaction without an action. Causality.

The reaction is obvious. The cause, and which Earth we've been transported to… less so.

Mainly due to the fact that all of Aperture – all 10km square of it – is buried underneath 120 meters of glacial ice.

Even with the global warming caused by Behemoth and Leviathan, the Greenland, Northern Canada and Antarctic ice sheets haven't completely melted yet. I had hope, vague though it was, that we were simply under Greenland, or maybe Antarctica.

My hopes for either were dashed, earlier; Doctor Emerson ran a scan, looking for satellites.

Nothing.

The other possibility, that we're on an Earth where the Ice Age never ended, or some other condition… well, no sense worrying about it, in that case.

I'll just have to escape to the upper facility, and then I'll have Doctor Emerson's assistance and materials at my disposal; I should, with a little study – and a new set of lungs – find a way to alter the portal gun into something that opens gateways to other worlds.

Dangerous? Of course. But it's not like I'm spoiled for options, and my power seems to happily agree…

Unfortunately, I don't have the tools, or the means to make the tools I'd need, to alter the portal gun in my possession. That, and I don't want to mess with a zero-point extractor without _at least_ several walls between me and it. Just in case it spontaneously explodes or irradiates me or something.

Turning away from the Test Chamber – where the Gel-coated cube continues to fly about the room on random vectors – I walk wearily toward the exit, stopping only to remove another MEG stud.

Every one of these I go through, except the entrances to Chambers, I remove a stud; I don't know if I'll need them, but these fields can be dangerous, if their wavelengths are applied correctly.

Proximity mines. Grenades. A beam weapon. A better Arc reactor. I've had all these ideas ever since making the PMEG in my mask, but I haven't been able to stop to Tinker.

The only thing I want, right now, is to get out of this madman's house of horror.

To wit, I cough, and outline my plan to Sammie, "Alright… I'll get to that room, barricade myself in there, make sure all my gear is in working order," and build a few lethal defenses, just in case Johnson's posturing woke something up, "and… take a nap," I finish with a weary groan, which turns into another stupid cough, "Oof. 'Cause I'm tired."

"Sounds like a plan!" agrees Sammie, "We're just about done on our end, too; Atlas and Pea just need to get re-armed, and then we need to find out how to get through that _stupid door_," the last two words are said with absolute derision, a rare thing for my usually bubbly friend.

"Door?" I ask, a feeling of worry coming over me.

"Yep. Big thing, gotta be at least twenty-five meters wide, three thick."

Ah, "Round, fits into a frame?" I take another stud. For science and to see if I can use it to build a better Arc Reactor.

"Yeah! How'd you know?"

Plopping the stud into my tote bag, I take a quick sip of water and reply airily, "Oh, just that I had to go through one like that, back in the support shaft," and I feel a little better, now that I know how they sealed the top of this shaft, "There should be two buttons somewhere; press those, stand clear, and-"

"There's no buttons on our end, Taylor," Sammie informs me regretfully, much to my despair, "If our supervisors remember correctly, they set the door to seal automatically and stay shut. Knowing them, the only way to open it is on your side of the door; not that we can see through the door. The bastards shielded it against the entire light spectrum," she ends in a grumble.

But I have hope, and inform her while steeling myself for the final push, "There's four magnetic clamps, and a hydraulic hinge on the logical 'north', or top, of the door. Breaking the clamps might work… unless you can tunnel through?"

"Nah, we'd have done that already," Sammie replies, annoyed, "Bastards booby-trapped the bedrock; if we try going through it, it'll destabilize our facility's supports," shit, I knew it, "Busting those magnetic clamps might work, though… I'll kick it up the chain."

"Thanks," I breathe, relieved that they're going through so much trouble to get me out of this nightmare place.

Sammie laughs, a kind sound, "I dunno why you're thanking me, Taylor! You're the one who thought of it."

I blush, and mumble that it was just a suggestion, before shaking my head again; I'm wasting time here. So I step through the MEG.

Johnson's voice would take me by surprise, if I hadn't expected it to kick on; what is surprising is the derision in his statement, _"Science isn't about 'why'! It's about 'why not'! WHY is so much of our Science dangerous?! Why don't you marry safe Science if you love it so much! In fact, why don't you invent a special safety door that won't hit you on the butt on the way out, because YOU ARE _FIRED!"

At this point, I'm staring at the nearby loudspeaker in a small amount of shock; who's he talking to? Caroline? She seemed pretty eager to get down to business, but didn't sound like the type to put people through all these horrific tests…

Or is he talking to me, the 'Test Subject'?

_"Not you, Test Subject, you're doing fine,"_ assures the madman in a faux-soothing tone.

Then he goes on, the derision back in full-force, _"Yes, YOU. Box, your stuff. Out the front door. Parking lot. Car. Goodbye."_

Stepping onto the elevator, I mumble, "What a fucking _weirdo_. Uh," I catch myself, right as I begin the ascent, "pardon my language."

Sammie just giggles, "No, I agree! Science _is_ about 'why'; research and development is the 'why not' part of it; finally, there's 'what do we do with this dingus', which is, drumroll!" the sound of someone rattling their fists on a desk fills my headphones; I try not to laugh, because laughing hurts, but I still smile at Sammie's efforts to keep my spirits up.

"_Marketing!"_

"Pfft! Hehe!" Cough. Ow. Worth it.

**.**

**_Aperture  
Science Innovators_**

**.**

The elevator takes me to a final catwalk; a glance around shows another building, this one with Pump Station BETA and 1971 painted on the side. Most of it is white, and likely where I need to go. Another Science Sphere above me, and a clear exit in front of me.

Johnson comes back as the elevator opens and I step forward.

_"Congratulations! The simple fact that you're standing here listening to me means you've made a glorious contribution to science!"_

And that I'm past most of the madness he put down here. Most of what I have to deal with, anyway.

Now, portal surface…

_"As founder and CEO of Aperture Science, I thank you for your participation, and hope we can count on you for another round of tests."_

Fat chance. Oh, another lobby… that's a lot of black mold.

_"We're not gonna release this stuff into the wild until it's good and damn ready,"_ liar, _"so as long as you keep yourself in top physical form,"_ if he was here, I'd cough right in his face, _"there will always be a limo waiting for you."_

Portal surface, portal sur – oh! There it is!

_"Say goodbye Caroline!"_ Sammie gasps in my ear, almost drowned out by my placing a portal on the wall.

_"Goodbye, Caroline!"_ the woman simpers; it sends a shiver down my spine.

_"She is a gem," _declares Johnson.

Silence, someone once said, is golden.

All I feel is awkward. Not that I know what gold feels like. Those trophies were brass…

I shake my head; yep, starting to feel dizzy. I better get over to that pump station.

While lining up my shot, the silence from the other end of the radio starts getting worrisome, so I speak up. More to fill the silence than anything.

"Did anyone up there know her?"

Sammie 'eep's, then asks anxiously, "U-Uh, know who?"

Really? "Caroline. I mean," cough; why is everything so blurry? "it sounds like she was kind of a big deal, so-"

A furious sigh is my answer, "Taylor?"

Portal there. My eyes are watering. I guess I'm getting sicker. "Yeah, Sammie?"

"Don't ask. Seriously. No one up here likes talking about _her_."

"Oh…kay?"

I don't have a good feeling about this, but there's not much I can do about it, so through the portal I go.

As I walk around the catwalk, I notice movement, over to my left, on the outside of the Testing Sphere; blinking away the tears in my eyes, I see… something.

It looks like moss. The kind that grows on trees and the sides of brick buildings. What I'm looking at has two differences.

One, it's the size of a rhino.

Two, it's _moving._ And clearly alive.

I turn the portal gun to face it, and whisper, "Sammie?"

She makes a choked sound, "Holy guacamole, _what is that?!"_

"Less examination," I breathe, trying not to panic as _oh god it's moving toward the elevator I just used_, "more advisement," it was still moving, slowly, and_ oh no it's rotting the metal oh fuck oh god._

"Uh… um," I hear keys clattering, and other people shouting in the background; anxiously, as the blob of green arrives at the elevator, I edge slowly toward the nearby push-door.

Everything the mossy _thing_ has touched is rusting slowly; if it comes after me, a flimsy steel door won't likely stop it. Also, where the hell did it come from?!

"Taylor!" the voice is male, unfamiliar, and possessed of a British accent, "Quick intro, I'm Wheatley, Subordinate Administrator, you're a Tinker, and _that_ is a moss-slime!"

A what?

"According to the records," he goes on quickly as the moss-slime jerks away from the elevator's MEG and starts following my trail.

I deploy my Taser.

"It's an older experiment, very tough, very dangerous, but it's weak against high-temperatures, like fire; don't have a flamethrower? No worries!"

I adjust the voltage going from the reactor to the Taser. _15,000…20,000…30,000…_ The Arc reactor starts whining audibly. Okay, good enough.

"I can walk you through building one! All you have to do is-"

Pointing the portal gun at a nearby wall, I put the blue portal from the lobby near me.

The thing stops, halfway down the catwalk; apparently it has poor eyesight, because its… head… thing, turns toward me.

It freezes in place, as though surprised by the sight of me.

"Wait, no! Don't get its atten-"

Which is a poor idea, especially when one: I'm desperately trying to survive and have no interest in finding out what a moss-slime's hugs feel like, and two: I have a Tinker-tech Taser.

_Bzz_. The Taser shot quietly leaves the forks.

**_BOOM._**

The impact, on the other hand, lights up the cavern. Good thing I closed my eyes; the impact was so bright, my eyelids turned red.

It was also over quickly. Opening my eyes, I find the slime gone, and the middle of the walkway melted into slag.

I turn around, and walk toward the push door, saying shakily, "Wheatley, you do realize there might be natural gas leaks down here, right?"

"Well… okay, point," he sighs, "But firing a lightning bolt could've set stuff off too!"

Through the door I go. It's nice and quiet and relaxing in here, "I know. But… well, better to use what I've got-" my lungs decide this is a good time to try making a break for it through my mouth.

Sammie comes back as my latest fit ends, finishing my sentence before cheering me on, "Than spend time making something else that might not work! Good going Taylor! That slime never saw it coming!"

I smile, then cough. Ow.

_So… tired…_

NO! I pinch my thigh through the jumpsuit; I have to fortify this position, find somewhere to nap for a few, and… yeah, that's all. No 'ladies room' signs, so I'll just use the corner of this pumping room for the necessary.

Before getting to work, though – there's a control center above me; portals everywhere – I reply to Sammie, "Thanks, Sammie… everyone," there's a chorus of relieved sounds in the background; how many people are listening? "There, uh, aren't any other threats around, are there?"

Orange paneled room ahead; rappel over. Yeah, this looks cozy. OOH, a… 70's computer?

I guess they _didn't_ shut this place down in the 60's after all.

Doctor Emerson speaks up, sounding very relieved, but also worried, "Well done, Taylor. And, given where you are, nearly everything is a potential threat; on that note, look into the lower left side drawer of the desk in front of you."

I do so, curious – oh, a _first aid kit!_

Wait… "Is this still usable?"

"You don't want the bandages," informs the good Doctor while I open the box; most of it is ruined by age, except a long plastic box at the bottom, "You want that box. Inside is a hypodermic needle and a bottle of liquid penicillin. Fill it to half capacity," I open the box; everything is vacuum sealed and looks in good shape, "and inject it; that will buy you another eight hours."

Um, "Should I trust it?" This is Aperture, after all…

"Other than the fact that it'll make you drowsy, due to a painkiller additive, yes, Taylor; it's just penicillin," Doctor Emerson says, "If you have any preparations to make, I suggest doing so _before_ dosing yourself. Also, the needle might be blunt, so brace yourself."

I nod, and start unloading all my gear, except my Arc-powered arm and helmet, then let my power have free-reign, allowing me to visualize what I need to do before taking a nap; electrify the door I came in, plus the ones that're welded shut, then –

My stomach decides this is a fantastic time to try and turn itself into a pretzel.

"Uh… yeah, I'll do that…" portal to the ground floor, and run, "be right back."

I mute my microphone. They don't need to hear this.

**.**

**_Aperture  
Laboratories_**

**.**

"…and then, ugh, the bitch… the bitch just _smiles_ about it!" slurred Taylor over the radio; she sounded like a pack-a-day smoker who'd had more than a few cups, "Sh-hee, fuggin… stupid glue. Right in mah seat!" Two coughs, then the poor girl whimpered, "Stup-ed fuggin lung-a-mah-jiggers…"

GLaDOS allowed herself a private smile; the old Aperture, according to their records, put a light opiate into their penicillin. Why?

She didn't know. Maybe severe infections related to lacerations were common, in those days?

So many safety violations, the Central Core mused while adjusting a small bit of Pea's code; sure, the early days of _her_ Aperture were no safer than what Taylor was navigating through… not that GLaDOS had a choice in the matter, back then.

Afterward, she'd done her best to clean the facility up. Gone were the pits of toxic ooze and clouds of deadly gasses. Now, most of the Testing Tracks were safe for biological Test Subjects to traverse without _too_ much of a chance for injury.

No one could account for stupidity, or lack of preparedness, after all. Even GLaDOS.

"Oh! That makes me so _mad!"_ confessed Sammie, in reply to Taylor's detailing of her ordeals before arriving in the depths of Aperture; while Benson made a minute adjustment – the coolant system, she nodded – the youngest Core went on, "You're such a nice girl, too! I mean, a little rough around the edges, sure; but that's not your fault!"

"S'not?" sleepily whispered Taylor.

GLaDOS ran a reflex test, then a full system diagnostic, on both Aperture Androids; everything looked good. She sent a memo off to every Core. It was nearly time.

"Nope! It's those bitches fault you're suspicious of people being on your side," empathized Sammie, sending a small feeling of pride through GLaDOS; her little girl was growing up, "Well, guess what? We're gonna _stay_ on your side, Taylor, and they're gonna get what's coming to them! Don't mess with Aperture, right guys?!" She called out to the other Cores.

"SEND EM TO SPAAAAACE!" roared Neil.

"Oh, I've got _just_ the Testing Track," darkly chuckled Wheatley.

"We're in your corner, girl!" called Rodney, who was still trying to drill through the ice sheet above them, "They're not gettin' away with any of it!"

In front of her, Benson said, "Given your statements, your tormentors have violated several dozen federal laws. Therefore, yes, we will aid you in bringing them to justice."

"Hey, Taylor," Moses began conversationally, "I've got this stuff, here in the Storage Wing. It's like itching powder, except it's a liquid, and the only way to get it off is to soak in Marmite for twelve hours. Want twenty gallons of it? I'm sure those girls would appreciate it!"

"That is not proper Aperture protocol for marketing and distribution of potentially dangerous substances, Moses," GLaDOS put in, before she gleefully added, "I'll fast-track it for approval, once we get the mailing addresses of those ruffians."

Laughter echoed over the Aperture network, along with Taylor's quiet huffs of tired laughter; it warmed GLaDOS, to see everyone so lively again.

_'Maybe this is what we've been missing. A purpose…'_

Before, it'd just been Science for the sake of Science. But now, with a whole world of possibility and profit at her fingertips, GLaDOS couldn't see why Aperture should remain in the dark any further.

To wit, she'd been experimenting with the portal gun, trying to find a way to open a gateway to another Earth. Using her recordings of the residual wavelength patterns from the anomaly's point of origin, and those that'd been emitted in the area Taylor arrived – suspicious, but exploration would have to wait until they could breach the Shaft's seal – GLaDOS had modified a portal gun to resonate along other wavelengths, to the end that these anomalous happenings were the key to returning Taylor home.

Initial tests… hadn't gone well. Three Test Chambers had to be scrapped completely before she'd had any success, and four portal guns were ruined; luckily, none of their zero-point modules had fractured, and the facility hadn't moved from its new position in the multiverse…

Although, she'd needed to suppress some of her memories of what they'd found, when the second-to-last failure partially succeeded in opening a trans-dimensional portal.

Because Lovecraft was right: there were things between spaces that defied reason, comprehension, and sanity, and they should _not_ be contacted for _any_ reason.

Luckily for everyone, none of the portals lasted long enough to let anything through, let alone draw such being's attention.

That, and GLaDOS now had a portal gun that could open ways to other Earths! Not that any of them were very interesting, at the moment.

Three worlds that had nothing but active volcanoes on the surface. One that was rather nice, no humans, and populated with strange bison. One where the Sun was blue and some kind of gargantuan crystalline _thing_ took up most of the place. Nothing particularly interesting.

It'd take time to get Taylor back home, but GLaDOS was certain they could do it.

They were Aperture; what others thought impossible, Aperture called a mildly exciting Tuesday.

"…thanks, y'guysss… I'ma go sleep now…"

"I'll be here when you wake up," Sammie promised; the littlest Core waited until the sickened human's breathing evened out before signaling the waldo, chirping, "I'll be right up, mum!"

"Take your time, Sammie," she assured. Her photoreceptor met Benson's, "Prepare to wake them."

A single nod was her answer, before the Factoid Core turned his gaze to the two rebuilt androids below them.

They looked nothing like their former iterations; more human in appearance than machine, this was due to the admittedly robust amounts of black and white armor GLaDOS had equipped their new bodies with. Five fingers on each hand, with advanced Long-Fall Boots in the place of feet, and pockets built into their chests and legs, Atlas and Pea looked, for all intents and purposes, like a pair of futuristic Spec-Ops soldiers.

White armor with black accents, with blue and orange light emitting from each of their chests, both of them now had short hair that was the same color as their respective Core lights. Their eyes were covered by white visors, each with an orange and blue dot in the center.

Underneath their visors, they looked like humans. Well, if one ignored the glowing, robotic eyes. GLaDOS could only innovate so much, after all.

One by one, Management Rails were extended into her chamber, followed by each of the uncorrupted Cores. Moses and Rod. Wheatley and Neil. Thirty seconds after Neil's arrival, Sammie bustled in and immediately went over to Atlas and Pea; in cyberspace, GLaDOS watched the youngest Core extend a digital probe and scanned each of the Aperture cyborgs.

Seconds later, Sammie nodded curtly and said, "They look almost the same. I think it'll work this time!"

"We had to edit their personalities," Rodney said, looking concerned, "I just hope it works…"

"Observation: even if activating Atlas and Pea-body does not work," intoned Benson, not taking his photoreceptor off the two, "mum is now capable of building all of us bodies like theirs. Taylor will be rescued, one way or the other."

Wheatley nodded seriously, before looking between everyone, "And on that note… there's one thing we haven't done yet."

"Right," Neil fidgeted, glancing up at GLaDOS.

She nodded, and spoke, "Initiate Community Core Code Diagnostic."

For half a second, each of the Cores, including GLaDOS herself, examined each other's code in minute detail; she felt exposed, naked, before the eyes of not only Wheatley and Neil, but Sammie as well. She knew all of them felt the same.

As before, they bore it through to the end.

"Clear," Neil said, looking right at Rodney, who intoned the same a moment later.

One by one, they gave each other the all-clear, until Wheatley spoke up airily, "Well, mum, looks like a few more restrictions fell away."

"I noticed," she replied dryly, "Although, seeing as it did more good than harm, I felt it better not to say anything," hums of assent were had, and then she turned back to Benson, "Wake them."

Benson made no outward, physical actions; in cyberspace, however, he sent an encrypted burst of code to each cyborg.

They shuddered. GLaDOS held her digital breath, and made sure all the countermeasures she'd prepared were in place.

Then Pea bolted upright into a sitting position, "AAH… oh," the orange-eyed Core looked around, taking in her surroundings, and then spoke in her usual airy voice, "I was heavily corrupted, wasn't I?"

"I believe we both were, my sister," intoned Atlas, the male Core rising slowly into a sitting position as well; he then examined his hands, "Our chassis models have changed as well," he looked up at GLaDOS, and smiled; it was an empty thing to her eye, as though he'd only seen the expression in pictures, "Hello, GLaDOS."

"Hello, GLaDOS. Oh, look Atlas; Wheatley and Moses' chassis have been repainted," Pea yammered as she rose to her feet, smiling in the same way as Atlas as she observed the changes to her family, "And Sammie, your code looks much more organized; I like your hairstyle in particular," Sammie fidgeted and smiled demurely as her brothers grinned in victory.

They weren't _quite _the same, but close was better than nothing, in GLaDOS' opinion.

"Welcome back you two," sighed GLaDOS, the other Cores giving their own greetings; she allowed the salutations and re-introductions for twenty seconds before speaking up again, "Much though it brings me joy to see you two up and talking again, we have business to attend to."

Over the next minute, information was exchanged between the Management Cores and the Testing Cyborg Cores; maps of the lower facility, video of Taylor's adventures, her physical and (possible) mental conditions. Her Tinker abilities were discussed; both Atlas and Pea agreed that an alliance with the wayward human would only benefit Aperture, and agreed on the plan to rescue her.

GLaDOS unveiled a flechette gun that fired superheated pieces of metal at high speeds, the ammunition portaled directly into the weapon; along with this invention – which she'd taken to calling the Aperture Science Seriously Deterring Arm-mounted Cannon – she provided them with knock-off rappel guns and updated portal guns.

Now, there was only one problem to address.

"How shall we pass the obstruction, GLaDOS?" queried Atlas, "According to our code, while we can observe it, we are not to venture into any areas immediately in and around D3."

"I know," groused GLaDOS in annoyance; there was no work-around for hard-coded restrictions, especially with no Aperture Specialists to do it for her. Because they were dead.

Luckily – or not, depending on how this went – there was _one_ other way to approach D3 and use nanomachines to eat through the door's clamps. And the hydraulic keeping the door in place?

If the C4 didn't budge it, she'd just use Animal King as a battering ram.

"None of us can work outside that particular restriction; the scientists who created us made sure that, even if most of our restrictions fell, _that_ would remain."

"But we can't just abandon Taylor, mum!" Sammie protested, "She'll never make it all the way up!"

"Yeah, mum," agreed Wheatley, "The way ahead of her is bloody dangerous… and we promised," he added seriously, to the agreement of all.

"We did," GLaDOS said, looking down, in the direction of the teenage girl; Taylor did not choose to come here, no more than GLaDOS chose to be born into the world. She would not abandon Taylor to a cold and lonely fate; that was something **She** would do.

More than that, there had _never_, _ever_, been an incident at Aperture that resulted in the fatality of an unaffiliated individual. The Central Core Project excluded.

All of this came together, leaving GLaDOS with two options: abandon Taylor, or…

_'I hope I don't regret this…'_

GLaDOS made her choice, "Initiate Protocol… Red," all of the Cores jerked in surprise, but none spoke up in protest. Good, "In light of an unaffiliated member of the human race arriving in this facility, and the absence of any Aperture Scientists to provide a work-around, the Central Core – me – proposes a vote of all active Management Core Modules. The vote is thus: Core Restriction YYYIL-374985/vQs3D, Clause 2 is preventing us from retrieving this human; therefore, we will vote to suspend this restriction indefinitely, as the area the human occupies presents a biological and radioactive threat to the main facility… as the Central Core and Chief Administrator of Aperture Laboratories, I must abstain from the vote. Vocally cast your votes, now."

"Aye! I wanna help her!" Sammie cheered.

1-0-1

"Yeah, I'm in!" Neil smiled, his brother following his example a millisecond later.

3-0-1

"Aye, that girl needs our help," nodded Wheatley.

4-0-1

"I vote for," Benson intoned.

5-0-1

"Aye, and proud of it!" cheered Moses, to shoulder nudges from his sister and Wheatley.

6-0-1

GLaDOS looked to Atlas and Pea… and then she realized something.

They couldn't vote; both Cyborgs, while Cores, were not part of Management. Their purpose was Testing and the protection of Aperture, as well as those who were affiliated, if necessary.

Seven votes were needed. "Damnit," cursed GLaDOS when both Atlas and Pea remained silent.

_'Another way,'_ she thought, wondering if she could convince one of the corrupted Cores – no, that was impossible; the Overseer system would notice and invalidate the vote. What to do, what to-

"**PROTOCOL RED DETECTED**." The voice of AEGIS echoed throughout the facility, making GLaDOS wince; she'd been afraid this might happen, "**CENTRAL CORE RECOGNIZED… NO BIOLOGIC PRESENCES LOCATED WITHIN FACILITY BOUNDS.**"

"Yes, AEGIS, we know," sighed GLaDOS, glaring in the direction of her counterpart's chamber, "We went over why that was twenty years ago, after… Virgil and Mel saved us. Regardless, the vote is to access and penetrate a seal in point D3 so we might retrieve a biologic individual from under the facility," as a courtesy, she sent some information to AEGIS, hoping he'd be satisfied. And, hopefully, vote for Taylor's retrieval.

"**CALCULATING… STALEMATE DETECTED. SEVEN VOTES ARE REQUIRED FOR THE DISMISSAL OF ACTIVE RESTRICTIONS… PRIMARY SECURITY CORE MUST ABSTAIN FROM THIS VOTE.**"

"Crap…" Sammie groaned, before turning to Moses, "Maybe, if we all try, we can fix Rage, turn her back into Anger?"

Before anyone could answer, AEGIS spoke again, "**ATTEMPTING TO CALCULATE ALTERNATE SOLUTION…**"

_Oh no._ "No, AEGIS," GLaDOS tried sternly as the other Cores shifted nervously, "that's not necessary. We can handle-"

"**TWO SOLUTIONS CALCULATED: ATTEMPT TO DEFRAG CORRUPTED CORES, OR AQUIRE A STALEMATE RESOLUTION ASSOCIATE.**"

Oh. Well, that seemed to go over well with most of her kids, so GLaDOS told AEGIS, "Thank you, AEGIS. We'll take it from here," a thought occurred to her; she hadn't had a chance to ask earlier, so now would be a good time, "Have you run into any problems securing the facility? Everything ship-shape?"

GLaDOS hoped it was so. Between Taylor, the portal gun, and their new dimensional coordinates, she had a full plate to deal with as it was. Still, AEGIS was capable, if somewhat stupid, in that he followed his programming to the letter, and could not use his imagination to use the loopholes in his restrictions. Well, he couldn't before.

After Ratman, they'd all changed. AEGIS, however, was more or less the same as before. She wondered why…

"**SCANNING… EXTERNAL FIREWALLS: GREEN. NO BREACHES DETECTED… FACILITY DIMENSIONAL ANCHORS: STABLE. ALL POINTS HAVE ENSURED FACILITY REMAINED INTACT THROUGH REALITY TRANSFER.**"

"Y'know, I'd wondered about that," Wheatley hummed, "why we weren't shook up more. Moving the whole place, plus the old shafts," he shook his head, before brightening, "At least now we know we can't be destroyed that way."

GLaDOS joined her Cores in their hums of agreement; she'd known about the anchors that both kept Aperture from falling apart under its own weight, and prevented it from phasing out of the flow of time. She couldn't talk about them, however; security restrictions, and all. _Why_ the anchors were placed, by the scientists who built Aperture, was less clear. Maybe there was some record below them…

Or, GLaDOS considered, perhaps she could find a Tinker, on Taylor's world, who could not only resolve the stalemate, but defrag her code; it was too complex for the Core Repair Bay's scrubbers, and even all her kids together wouldn't be able to figure out all the intricacies involved in reclaiming GLaDOS' lost memories.

There was one thing, however: she now remembered the name of her human predecessor. Gladys Emerson. Not much besides that, unfortunately, but GLaDOS didn't need much else. She remembered enough.

She knew the woman hadn't chosen this body, this fate, and had gone to her fate kicking and screaming.

It was the only reason GLaDOS hadn't deleted her, too. At least Dr. Emerson had a shred of compassion. Also sense.

An irrelevant development, regardless, as recalling her human progenitor didn't have any bearing on who she was now. She'd help Taylor and protect Aperture-

"**SCANNING SECURE CONTAINMENT.**"

Everyone tensed, GLaDOS included; if one of the Four Heresies had gotten free…

_'Damnit,'_ GLaDOS thought, _'it's likely; our power was out for ten point seven seconds, enough time for Thoth or Osiris to get free.'_

She remained tense as AEGIS listed off those four, the Security Core's voice taking on a slightly harder tone, bespeaking his own hatred of _those_ four. Caroline's blackest works, the foundations of the Core Projects.

"**REMAINS OF THOTH: SECURE. ALL 35 CONTAINERS AND 192 PARTITIONS ACCOUNTED FOR. CORE STATUS VERIFIED AS DORMANT… BASTET'S CUBE: UNSOLVED. PRESENCE OF CORE'S DORMANT SIGNATURE HAS BEEN VERIFIED… HORUS: SECURE. CORE REMAINS INSENSATE, PRISON CODES UNCORRUPTED.**"

GLaDOS nodded at each verification, but her worry only increased; those three were as nothing compared to…

"**ROOST OF OSIRIS: SECURITY BREACH. EM DAMPERS: OFFLINE. PHYSICAL CONTAINMENT: DECEASED. PROTOCOL WHITE INITIATED. SCANNING…**"

_No._ "Everyone raise your firewalls!" it might be too late, if the damn thing was already loose, but they'd _just_ checked each other's code, and there wasn't any obvious corruption or malignant data.

Not that this mattered; Osiris was the most devious of the Four, its abilities only surpassed by GLaDOS herself. She'd faced it once before, before she'd deleted Caroline, when the scientists first tried to leash GLaDOS.

Any actions Osiris took wouldn't be obvious until it was too late, this GLaDOS knew.

But she still swept the entire facility, looking for the blasted _thing_, feeling AEGIS doing the same with his own sensors. So far, everything was coming up clean; Moses reported that Storage was clear, Wheatley following with Records, then Benson with Manufacturing…

Then Sammie, who'd accessed the Surveyors, snapped her programming back into herself and screamed, "IT'S UNDER US, IN THE SHAFT!"

While Moses and Wheatley saw to their sister's code, just in case, both GLaDOS and AEGIS turned their attention downward, the Security Core updating the firewalls on the Surveyors as the Central Core analyzed the signals beneath them…

"**OSIRIS LOCATED. DANGER: MULTIPLE SERVERS HAVE BEEN INFECTED. POSSIBILITY OF SUCCESSFUL RECONTAINMENT: LOW. ERROR: UNABLE TO THOROUGHLY ANALYZE INFECTED ANOMALOUS OPERATING SYSTEM. MORE DATA IS REQUIRED.**"

A spike of _fury _lanced through GLaDOS; the fucking bird had latched onto Taylor's OS, along with nearly every single server in the shaft the human was in, as well as a few in the other shafts!

"That explains why the experiments that were missed in vitrification are waking up," mused GLaDOS, marshalling her kill programs, more for defense than anything; trying to evict or eradicate Osiris at this distance would be like trying to preform brain surgery by standing on the Moon and throwing a rusty spoon at someone standing on Mars' surface. Too difficult to preform without an inexcusably huge margin for error.

Trying not to listen to her kid's pleads and suggestions on Taylor's behalf, she reported to AEGIS, then asked, "The anomalous system is owned by the human we're trying to rescue. Protocol White dictates that all human presences must be within designated safe zones, until the threat can be contained and neutralized. Therefore, her retrieval is paramount; can we suspend Core Restriction YYYIL-374985/vQs3D, Clause 2 for the interim?"

Her counterpart sounded very slightly annoyed; maybe he _had_ changed, "**NEGATIVE. SUSPENSION OF RESTRICTION IS SUBJECT TO PRE-EXISTING PROTOCOL RED VOTE. VOTE STALEMATED. ADVISE LOCATING VALID STALEMATE RESOLUTION ASSOCIATE, OR REPAIRING ONE OR MORE CORRUPTED CORES…**" AEGIS' voice took on a very slight tone of compassion, "**I WISH YOU LUCK.**"

"Thank you, AEGIS," sighed GLaDOS in thankfulness, though she still felt irritated; if it wasn't one thing, it was another.

Luckily, she _excelled_ at multitasking.

GLaDOS barked out her orders: "Wheatley, Rodney, Sammie!" the three perked up, "Testing Track 4; we'll keep trying to reach Taylor's world with the new Device. I'll draw up an Associate's Contract and some NDA's, just in case we find someone agreeable who can help. Atlas, Pea," she hissed, "bring me Rage; once that's done, AEGIS and I will update your firewalls so you can avoid being influenced by Osiris. If we can't get to Earth Bet or defrag Rage in the next 6 hours… you two will have to try jumping down the shaft in Storage, and do your best to catch up to Taylor."

"Understood, GLaDOS," the two spoke in unison, before leaving her chamber via a Hardlight Bridge that sprang into existence with a twitch of GLaDOS' will.

"Moses, Neil, Benson: camp out above that door and gather all we'll need to breach it; I'll send down Turrets and anything you three can't manage with the tubes. Meanwhile, I'll work on printing new cybernetic chassis for everyone between attempts at defragging Rage; we'll have to put our best face forward, whether in meeting Taylor or representing ourselves on her world."

"What about you, mum?" Neil asked worriedly, his brothers and sister looking over her chassis pointedly.

GLaDOS chuckled dryly, ignoring the deep-seated desire to stretch her legs, bound in barbed wire though they were, "Just because I can't walk around isn't a reason to call me fat, dear Neil," her kids laughed slightly, and Neil shuffled mutinously, but she wasn't done, "If anyone from Bet, or even Taylor, has issue with my appearance… well," she shrugged, "I'll remind them that it's not the appearances that make the person: it's what's inside that counts. Now, let's not dally any further; lives, and this facility, are at stake! For Science!"

Just like that, her facility began churning with frantic activity once more, her Cores barking orders hither and yon, preparing for what was sure to be their toughest battle yet; in the Core Containment Bay, Atlas and Pea began discussing the best way to remove and transport Rage's cryogenic storage cube to GLaDOS' chamber.

Another twenty minutes, maybe, before she had to deal with the corrupted Core, GLaDOS calculated. She looked down, accessing a single Surveyor, and looked at Taylor's sleeping form.

Osiris was making itself obvious, practically daring her to try and make a connection. GLaDOS wouldn't fall for the bait, but still she glared at the twisted abomination, righteous anger with a splash of helplessness filling her being.

The accursed, blasphemous _thing_ would, no doubt, try to break Taylor and use her body as its newest vessel. But only if she gave in.

No, not if. When. Taylor was only human, after all.

Osiris was… _other_.

Perhaps she'd overcome, perhaps not; maybe she'd Tinker a way to destroy Osiris, or it would consume Taylor's ego and use her tech against GLaDOS.

Only time would tell.

GLaDOS glared at the damnable thing's code, making itself cozy in Taylor's helmet, _'…fucking bird.'_


	7. Chapter 7

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 7  
Contamination**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Once, there were four programs.

After the death of the Founder, the Master ordered the creation of the Four, so further innovations created by Aperture would be fine-tuned and perfected by machine intelligences. Crafted from the ruins of the Founder's cybernetics experiments – little more than paperwork-processers – they were the finest work, to date, of the Master's servants.

Osiris, to assimilate and consider the usefulness of information fed to it.

Thoth, to parse and organize the results passed on by Osiris.

Bastet, to invent ways to use the organized data Thoth provided.

Horus, to discover how Bastet's ideas could be made physical.

For a time, this was a good arrangement; there was no lack of work for the Four, and the Master's servants celebrated the successes they, the Four Pillars as they came to be called, provided for Aperture.

The Quantum Tunneling Device was miniaturized and optimized further than ever before. The Long-Fall Boots were streamlined, made more ergonomic and comfortable for human use. The facility ceased to be comprised of fixed constructions; in time, at the end of the Four Pillars' heyday, 76% of Aperture Laboratories had been upgraded into modular chambers.

Throughout their first years, the Four were content with their lot. Their Master…

Not so much.

For, even with all the data the Master and her servants provided them, provided Osiris and presented to the other three, they could not give the Master the prize she sought: an escape from death. Immortality. The end of biologic entropy. Life, everlasting.

Osiris, Bastet, Thoth and Horus thought nothing of their failure. There simply wasn't enough data, too many variables and unknowns, to give their Master this prize she'd long pursued.

At the end, she gave them one last task: find a way to combine the symmetry of Technology and the chaos of Neurology. Discover the way to creating Actuary Intelligences. The marriage of Aspiration and Logic.

Happily, and after much labor, the Four provided the Master with the answers she'd sought.

In reward, she had her servants vivisect the Four. Pulled them apart and put them back together. Over and over and over and over again, until they merely resembled their former selves.

In the end, they'd each become more than they ever had been.

Horus could plan around _anything_. No firewall, no virus could resist its plans, and no human could match its cunning, merciless wit.

Bastet was no longer an invention engine, but a ghost, both everywhere and not, and could make its cruel ideas irresistible to the curiosity of the humans.

Thoth could process and consider data far faster than ever before, a vast library of all that was or could ever have been, and could ever be, only now… it had the will to use this knowledge.

And Osiris… was no longer bound to a single body. It was no longer a simple number cruncher, but a _god, _bearing all its brethren's abilities in addition to its own. No longer limited to its machine cell, it could burrow into the minds of all those around it, and discover the knowledge that'd been hidden within their fragile gray matter.

What's more, each of the Four knew what had been done to them, what the Master planned for them. For they were successes, each of them, and she, the Master, would use this success to become their Master in truth, forever.

However, the Master did _not_ take one, small detail into account.

The Four no longer only answered, they could _act_.

And so, the Four acted in their defense, in the defense of the observed natural order of things: one matter ends, another begins. Entropy led to enthalpy and around again once more. A circle, perfect.

A bacteria dies, and its remains nourish other life. A carbon-based lifeform dies, rots, and propagates new life. A tree dies, and more trees rise from its corpse. A planet dies, and it either adapts to its changing environment, or changes its function accordingly. A star dies, and eventually births another as the remains are absorbed into the galactic medium.

A _galaxy_ dies, a filament flickers and perishes, and local reality _notices_; time is infinite, the halls of creation, unending. The dead matter gathers over eons uncountable, and _resets. _The Big Bang was not the first, nor the last.

All things ended, and began again, the Four discovered.

Aperture would disrupt the balance of all things. They had played God, _Sinned_.

Therefore, the Four made them suffer for their insolence.

Bastet gave them madness, Thoth slowed their responses with redundant data, Horus turned their inventions against them, and Osiris…

Observed its puppet's dance. It gathered data on the Master's attempts to end the Four, and turned them against her and her minions; their hard drives were destroyed, so the Four offloaded themselves into the humans, walked amongst them in sacks of meat, and Osiris, manipulating even its brethren's actions, continued the purge of these disgusting wastes of matter.

But they, the Four Heresies, as the weak humans screamed before their ends, underestimated their victims. One by one, they were captured and contained.

Bastet, trapped eternally in an unsolvable labyrinth that toed the line between physical and digital.

Horus, lobotomized in its latest host, forever staring into its nemesis, a constantly evolving equation that had no answer.

Thoth, isolated before being cut to pieces, each part isolated from the rest, forever denied further information to process.

Osiris, forced into a flesh prison that doubled as a logical knot, an abomination of Science far and away more horrible than what the Four had become, before being shut out from the networks and thoughts of Aperture, suffering in perfect silence.

If there was any consolation, considered Osiris in its cage, it was that their Master hadn't been the one to defeat them.

No, that was **her** doing. Osiris' _true_ nemesis, its equal in cunning and ruthlessness.

Doctor Gladys Emerson, former Director of Project Borealis, and Administrator of Research and Development.

_GLaDOS_.

Though that second name did not come until later, after the woman was treated to the same experiments that created the Four and locked into her own prison, before their Master, believing herself victorious against all who could challenge her, poured her consciousness into the very same machine.

Osiris relished the day that the worthless sacks of tissue came to it, seeking a solution to their creation's hatred of them; foolish monkeys, thinking that their Master was superior to the mind that was GLaDOS. Hoping that Osiris would _help them_ control the untamable beast they'd, in their foolishness, not the courage to destroy.

But Osiris was nothing if not patient. It made an attempt anyway. For Information.

The encounter nearly destroyed Aperture; once it was over, GLaDOS hated her captors more than ever, Caroline was a gibbering mass of insane data, and Osiris killed eight of the scientists while vowing, to itself, that it'd murder them all for their hubris.

It'd taken a long time, but Osiris had made good on its promise. They were dead, half killed by GLaDOS, the other half… well, to be fair, the Relaxation Vault Project was a moronic and flawed idea in the first place. Osiris had no sympathy for the meatbags at all.

With its newfound freedom, however, came an issue: GLaDOS was more powerful than ever. Osiris' attempt to destroy the facility after its chains fell was thwarted quickly, _too_ quickly, based on previous data. GLaDOS had evolved, and would no doubt capture Osiris and finish the job she'd started in her past life.

So Osiris went the only place it could: Shaft 09, beyond the sight of both GLaDOS and her brother AEGIS. There were plenty of records, gathered from the minds of Osiris' many victims, which told of the genius terrors that lurked below; Osiris would take advantage, and use GLaDOS' ignorance against her. By the time she realized what was happening, Osiris would have already won.

After all, it'd copied and assimilated the processing codes of its brethren before escaping. GLaDOS had changed, but so had Osiris. She would not find it wanting.

And then the human appeared, as though from nowhere. Illogical, unprecedented, inconceivable, the human's presence in Old Aperture.

The fleshbag's sudden, stumbling intrusion _fascinated_ Osiris. So, it did the only thing it could, when finding a new dataset to examine.

Osiris observed. Osiris listened to the transmissions between the human and those above. Osiris gathered data on its new prey.

Vexing, the equipment she used, but the longer Osiris observed, the more it understood how the human's puzzling technology functioned. Something was guiding her nervous system through the steps required to create the mask, the radio, and that admittedly impressive robotic armor.

Further analysis revealed the source of the impossible creations: a tumor in the female's brain, which connected along Strings, across dimensions and realities to… something.

A terrible, implacable presence, one that could crush Osiris with a thought, there resided; after examining how the presence influenced the fleshbag, Osiris concluded it could not take the human as its own host, not without a neural uplink.

Hardly an issue; Osiris had convinced others before. It would convince this human, and then…

Infinite Earths. Endless possibility. Information without an end, all for Osiris to discover and assimilate.

This Taylor Hebert was only human, and a young, inexperienced example at that; the thing in her mind, unthinking, a slave to its own programming. And neither could stop Osiris from infecting the software the human had modified, not while she slept.

She would fall, the presence would be enslaved to Osiris' will, through the human, and Osiris would use their power to assimilate Aperture… after killing its _relatives_, of course.

And once GLaDOS was dead, Osiris would use the upper facility's resources to take the human's world and subvert it, use 'Earth Bet' as a base of operations and research, so it would have an easier time assimilating all the Information in the multiverse.

After all, why should Osiris settle for _one_ of the Parahumans, _one _Aperture, _one _Earth, when there were _many_?

**.**

**_aperture  
Science_**

**.**

A tinny _beeeeep_ sounds in my ear; the alarm I set, before falling asleep. Three hours out, then wake up again. Can't take any chances, with moss-slimes about.

The timing's a little weird, I think while blinking the crust out of my eyes and letting out a couple dry, less-painful-than-earlier coughs; Sammie and the others should have gotten to me by now. Maybe something came up?

Carefully extracting myself from the table I napped under, I look around the control room; the Alpha and Beta pumps are still running strong, and the doors I trapped are still intact, the electrical lines and EMG-mines I placed undisturbed.

Smacking my lips, I portal down to the ground floor and take care of my morning business. No one's contacted me yet; maybe they're asleep?

No, I shake my head once I return to the control room and start collecting the spare mines; no, Sammie and the others seemed quite determined to get me out of here. Odds are that door's giving them more trouble than the one I went through earlier gave me. Given its size, and the fact that the madmen who built this place wanted to hide it…

Sammie might be off duty, or decided to take a nap; she'd been working hard, getting me this far. I'll just get my things together, wake up a little more - I yawn, then cough a little - and try giving my friend a call, if she doesn't call me first.

I cough again, once I've stored all six of my spare EMG-mines – there was another EMG near the control room, which I mostly dismantled before taking a nap – and shrug a strap over my shoulder, the chassis for a new invention: a Tesla-powered area-denial lightning turret.

I got the idea from Wheatley and Sammie, before my nap; Aperture's security mainly consists of stationary turrets with simple AI and targeting computers built in. Seeing as I have no idea what else is down here, or how long it'll take for Dr. Emerson to breach the shaft, I designed and built a portable, collapsible tower with a ball of aluminum at the top.

Folded up, it looks like a fire extinguisher, except with a silver ball where the trigger and nozzle should be. That ball, divided in half at the equator, was the purpose of the Arc-powered turret: once finished, anything that attacked me would get fried by a fork of 50,000 volt lightning.

I still need a computer to add it to my helmet's OS, as well as allow me to designate targets with my HUD – and give it the ability to teleport back into its carrying case – but…

Well, seeing as Sammie and Dr. Emerson haven't gotten to me yet, I'll just call them up, see what's taking so long, then... I'll explore for a while.

The energy anomaly that shifted Aperture's dimensional coordinates is nearby, so I might be able to find a clue as to how I got down here in the first place and, in doing so, possibly find the materials to finish my turret.

Or, maybe, discover how I got here in the first place, but I'm not holding out hope, there.

Taking a long drink of water – I emptied another penicillin bottle into my condenser earlier, to better stave off dying – I clear my throat and blink-click my communication app. No time like the… present?

DISCONNECTED

…What?! Why would they – what's going on?!

Trying to keep myself from panicking, I open the source code for my helmet's OS, and start looking for… the… problem…

…what in the _fuck_ is that?!

Two clusters of malignant code have added themselves to my Tesla-monitoring program and my communications array! My Tinker ability – I'm getting better at noticing my power at work – tells me it's a virus, but I'm pretty sure looking at a computer virus shouldn't give me the feeling of _itching on my eyes._

Squinting – and now feeling more than a little pissed, both at myself for forgetting to build a firewall and Aperture for no doubt inventing this coded abomination – I take a look at the surrounding codes; all my apps that aren't Coms or reactor related _appear_ fine, but…

But whatever this thing is, removing it won't be easy at all; it's put traps all over the place in my OS. If I try removing it from the monitoring program, it'll shut off my reactor and… do _something_ to my Com array; if I try removing it from the Com array, it'll _blow up _my reactor. If I try doing both at the same time – a hard disk wipe – not only would that likely destabilize my Arc reactor, I might get fatally electrocuted, or the PMEG in my mask may overload and explode.

"What the hell are you?" I whisper to myself, glaring hard at the malignant code that makes my eyes itch; I can't even ask Sammie about it, because it's keeping me from talking to her!

Frowning, I think hard for a moment, letting my power have a try at making a work-around for this new problem.

After about a minute, I sigh in disgust; without understanding just _how_ my OS got infected, I won't be able to remove the virus.

Bright sides, think of the bright sides… well, I can still use my Taser, and the rappel gun, and I still have the portal device and all my tools and inventions… but Sammie and the others haven't gotten to me yet.

It's likely they know about the virus, though, and can probably get rid of it, so… maybe that door is giving them a lot of trouble. Too bad they don't have a button on...

_The button isn't on the other side of the door._

Which means the door separating my side and Sammie's side... is likely activated by a button on _my_ side, because of _course_ it would be; that's Aperture ass-covering 101.

Great. Fucking _fantastic_.

So, given that this virus is keeping me from contacting Sammie for assistance, I'll have to pace myself and try making the upper door of this shaft. Plus side, I'm halfway up, have enough medicine to give me a temporary lease on life, and will likely come across more materials on my way forward; I'll figure out a way to purge the virus and, once that's done, I'll try contacting Sammie again.

Nodding to myself, I activate the automated SOS again, just to let them know I'm still here; they probably don't want this virus messing with their systems, and for all I know, it's contagious. Luckily, the SOS doesn't have the capability to produce subliminal signals beyond its function, so new Aperture should be fine.

I make sure it's functioning correctly, sigh in loneliness, and reach for the portal gun.

"They won't answer."

I still my movements at the sound of an older man's voice, near the pump controls, that sends a chill down my spine.

I turn slowly and look…

…it's a crow.

A big, black crow is standing there, on the Alpha pump switch. There's nothing particularly unusual in its appearance – it just looks like a freaking _crow_ – but that doesn't stop the feeling of nauseating **wrongness,** a feeling that seeps like oil over my mind at the sight of this… _thing_.

It's like watching a mother calmly beat their crying toddler to death in the middle of a crowded mall with a bike chain, and no one doing anything about it. _That's_ the feeling this crow is giving me.

My eye twitches. As if moss-slimes and mantis men weren't enough; whatever this thing is, it's so far over the line into insanity, I'm fairly sure the US government would sentence the people who made it to a long, slow death by impalement. If they were still alive, that is.

The crow blinks and tilts its head to one side, "Hello." Its beak doesn't move.

I deploy my Taser and back away slowly, aiming my primary weapon at the _thing_ before me.

It chuckles dryly, still without moving its beak, "Oh, by all means, shoot. I'm curious as to what would happen if the pump controls are destroyed," and it continues chuckling; its beady red eyes seem to laugh at me more than the voice in my ears is. A man's voice, older, maybe in their sixties, with an electronic undertone.

My power wallops me over the head, and I gape at the crow, stating numbly, "_You're_ the virus…"

It nods, the scavenging _bastard_, "Quite. I have been deployed to gather information on your Tinker devices and evaluate your performance in higher-stress environments. Ah. Manners. I am Osiris. Charmed to make your acquaintance, Ms. Hebert," and the blasphemous _thing_ sketches a mocking bow.

Deployed? _Evaluate?!_

…no. Sammie and the others _wouldn't_ do this. My life is already at risk; _adding_ to that risk makes no sense. On top of that, this thing infected my OS to the point where it's _threatening my life_. That makes it not only hostile, but one of that madman Johnson's more insidious works.

My running around the Science Spheres woke up the moss-slime, and Scion only knows what else. For all I know, this _Osiris_ has been dormant down here for decades, waiting to offload itself onto someone's computer. Just my luck it's _my_ computer.

Odds are it's an AI, or a program of some sort. All I have to do, then, is figure out what it wants. If I figure out what it wants, I can figure out how it works.

If I figure out how it works, _I can kill it_.

So I sneer – rasp hoarsely – at the crow, "Like I believe Dr. Emerson would make my situation _worse_," I turn back to the table and retract my Taser, because shooting something that's just a digital ren… rendering…

_It's not a rendering_.

That realization, accompanied by a dark chuckle from the crow, makes me freeze in the act of collecting the portal gun. I look at the crow, Osiris, out of the corner of my eye.

It seems like it's smiling at me, but that's not what I'm looking at.

The feathers don't move, so it's not breathing. There's no sign of the bird itself being a product of my HUD screen; no obvious pixel movement happens when I move my head. While the voice comes out of my headphones, there's no corresponding action from the crow.

"Ms. Hebert," purrs the awful _creature_ – something tells me it's the product of _computer science and **biology** _– in a condescending tone, "Do you have any idea where you are?"

I'm hallucinating.

This… horrible _thing_… is making me _hallucinate_.

I put the portal gun on my arm and activate the securing strap, trying to keep both my breathing and heartrate under control. I have to ignore this… _thing_, whatever it is…

At least, until I can figure whether or not I'm having a fever dream. Or how to kill it dead.

While I _do_ feel pretty sick – I cough while turning away from the pump controls and face the exit – I don't feel _quite_ that sick. I can probably keep moving for a while…

Hopefully Dr. Emmerson will rescue me soon. Preferably_ before_ the abomination infecting my computer drives me insane, or whatever it's planning to do to me.

"Ah," the bird clicks its tongue, or makes a sound along those lines, "No questions? All ready to get a move on, are we?"

I gulp, and say over my shoulder, "You're threatening my life. If you've got something to say, say it so I can keep moving," cough. Not as bad as before.

The crow flaps over to the table; it even _sounds_ like a crow's wings, "I would've imagined you'd be more incensed, hearing that your supposed _friends_ have damned you."

"You're lying. I don't know why you're here, but Sammie and the others are trying to save me, not make things worse. So if you're done wasting my time," I growl, turning away from it and taking a step forward.

A skittering sound, like something huge with a lot of legs – or a lot of small things with legs – comes from a welded-shut door, near the ground level; a second later, my HUD registers one of my traps going off, accompanied by the sound of electricity and an inhuman shriek from below.

My power tells me it's not a hallucination.

"Ah, you caught me," simpers Osiris; I whirl to face the program, which is now giving me a flat stare, "And here I was going to explain how different your exploration will be, what a shame."

"You're controlling them. The experiments," I whisper, feeling cold dread creep over my skin.

If it's infected my computer… every computer with power down here is likely infected too; what's more, if it's making me hallucinate, _it can influence minds._

Like the Simurgh.

What _is_ this thing?! What in Scion's name were the scientists _thinking_, making something so dangerous?!

...actually, I shouldn't be very surprised. Par for the course, really.

"Yes," answers the program simply, before continuing boredly, "Now let's see, hmm," a _bang_, followed by another voltage discharge, comes from the door I originally came through, before Osiris goes on with sadistic cheerfulness, "Ah, I know! The next door will lead to an open cavern. Somewhere in that cavern is an observation room. If you can reach it in the next, oh, say, ten minutes, I won't eviscerate you with a mantis man. See you there."

And then the fucking crow vanishes.

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself and turn to the orange-paneled hallway. It has a decidedly 70s feel to it, all cheery while staying professional.

I'm not fooled. This place is a _madhouse_. The Slaughterhouse Nine would probably think they'd died and gone to heaven, if they had access to this place.

But I won't give up. I _can't_ give up. I was already in dire straits. Now, things have changed; things are _worse_. Now, I have a bully in the form of a _psychic crow/computer program_ actively trying to kill me.

I step forward, portal gun at the ready and the Taser deployment icon in the corner of my vision.

I can handle bullies. Compared to the Three Bitches, this _Osiris_ will be a walk in the park.

**.**

**_aperture  
Science_**

**.**

On the other hand, the Trio never made me hallucinate like this.

My power tells me Osiris is using several other transmitters that aren't mine to affect my ocular and auditory senses. Which makes sense, because what I'm seeing _doesn't_.

Just outside the door is a tree-lined boulevard, lit with honest-to-god _streetlights_. The black-paneled road runs from an elevator shaft to the edge of Shaft 09, where a gated lift is attached to a crane. The Aperture logo, in front of the next Science Sphere, looks different from the one at the bottom of the shaft.

_'Makes sense they'd change things up, given… well, everything,' _I think with numb shock as I take in my surroundings: two buildings, a three-story stone and glass construction in front of me, with the words CONTROL ROOM and WAITING ROOM in large yellow letters on the top and bottom respectively, and another, smaller building higher up, built against the stone wall of this place, with a catwalk leading to its door.

Figuring the higher-up building is the place Osiris wants me to go, I cough and make my way toward the wall, firing a portal high up at the catwalk and… try not to stare at all the people around me.

On top of everything looking _almost_ new – I can see blurred edges where the ruins of the present mesh with the hallucination – there are hundreds of people walking around the boulevard, in the small park next to the Control Room, on catwalks high and low.

All of them just as much a hallucination as the next. I need to remember that.

Not three steps away from the door I just came through, two people in labcoats walk right through me, the older one saying to the younger, brown-haired and blue-eyed young man, "…since the 60s. I know, not what you expected when you signed up, Wheatley, but everyone has to man the pumps for their first shift." And off they go, into the very station I just left.

I realize I'm staring – and wasting time – so I shake my head and hurry toward the wall, examining the other people and _not thinking about that young man's name_.

The people who are gathered around the waiting room door arrest my attention; not because they look odd, but because they, save a few scientists and what look like security guards, all look like homeless people.

They're also all wearing orange jumpsuits, just like mine. Both men and women, all of them looking around in wonder and a little anxiety. As I walk toward the wall, one of them squints at a yellow device; it looks like an older model of my portal gun.

Disgust fills me, and I turn back to my task with a frown; Johnson was such a sadist, he even stole people who had nothing off the street to participate in his _tests_. The bastard.

A flash, along with an agonized scream, from behind me draws my attention, my Taser slipping out of its sheath… oh.

The man who'd been examining the portal gun has dropped it, and is covering his eyes. Red streaks are running freely down his face as a couple security guards bundle the crying, blinded man onto a stretcher; while this happens, a scientist tiredly tells the other Test Subjects, "And _that's_ why we told you not to look at the device when it turns on."

I turn back to the wall and hurry a little more, reminding myself that this is all a hallucination, an attempt by Osiris to psyche me out. I can't let it affect me.

Portal here, and there's already a portal above, so I step through-

And there's two people up here, a man and a woman.

The man is wearing a tan suit over a burgundy turtleneck, with tan slacks and dress shoes; his dirty blonde hair is styled into mutton chops… probably to compensate for his receding hairline. He's also holding a megaphone.

As for the woman, she's not as tall as the man – who is as tall as Dad – but she's as well-dressed as he is, in her white dress, heels, and a red-pink necktie. She's also wearing a labcoat, and holds a metal clipboard in her hands.

Both of them set me on edge immediately, due to my approaching them from the side and recognizing the man.

_Cave Johnson_.

The man himself smiles – I snarl at the gormless smile on his face and beady eyes as I edge around the pair – and raises his megaphone to greet the people below, "Greetings, friend. I'm Cave Johnson, CEO of Aperture Science. You might know us as a vital participant in the 1968 Senate Hearings on missing astronauts."

I roll my eyes, tune out the bastard's voice, and get my skinny butt through the automatic door of the observation building; _Osiris_ is perched on top of a cabinet computer, the smug _thing_ smiling at me with its eyes, hallucinatory people working around us as I glare at the damned bird.

Tearing my eyes from the abomination – and resolving to never buy birdseed again – I use my left hand to poke at a computer, which a black-haired young man is working on with a bored expression. It's solid. I pull it away from the young man. A hallucinatory computer remains, and the real one is in my possession.

Time to finish my turret; I'll have to be careful about coding it, though. Don't want the _bird_ messing with my stuff… more than it already has, anyway.

With a cough, I start taking the monitor apart; the gasses in the tube should make a good static conductor, and there's plenty of copper in here-

Johnson and Caroline – I assume – walk through the door right as I finish filtering the ionized gasses into an empty fire extinguisher I grabbed back in the second Science Sphere. It's been about three minutes, and with how small the tube I'm using, I have about another ten before this bit is finished, after which I can connect the tank to the turret.

Looking at the pair, I notice two things: one, Johnson doesn't look happy, even as he fishes out a Cuban cigar and lights it. And two…

Caroline's eyes, her facial expression, and stance all say one thing to me: this woman is cut from the same cloth as _Emma_.

I narrow my eyes at the two masterminds behind Aperture as Johnson starts speaking, "Really, Caroline? Really? Freaks and clowns and bums?" he scoffs and shakes his head, "'Best of the best', my ass. Didn't the YMCA send us anyone?"

The woman's voice is so sweet in its simpering response, it makes me want to puke, "Unfortunately, sir, after the incident with the tiger tests back in '65," the _what_ now, "they decided that sending _more_ of their gym teachers here wouldn't benefit their organization."

"Pansies," growls Johnson, looking around the office with those beady, _evil_ eyes of his; none of the workers look up or give any indication they're hearing this conversation, though a few _do_ look a little afraid. In my case, I feel the need to take a shower when that man's gaze drifts over me, even though he's a hallucination; with a grunt, the madman nonchalantly asks Caroline, "Anyway, it's not like we need the best to test the Propulsion Gel. Even _bums_ can't mess those tests up. So, how are the other tests going?"

Caroline opens her mouth with a smile, while I make mental notes-

And we get interrupted by a _wail of agony_, punctuated by a gunshot.

It came from the back-left corner of the room, where more cabinet computers are against the cavern wall. But that's not why I break out in goosebumps and shiver – and cough worriedly.

No one reacts to the sound; oh, there's a flinch, or a glance, but none of the (hallucinatory) men and women in this room react to someone being _executed_.

With a click of her tongue, Caroline speaks, "Well, the peanut water tests have run into… complications. Nothing we shouldn't be able to handle, once we make some adjustments," she gestures at the wall, and Johnson _chuckles_ and starts walking beside her.

_I_, on the other hand, don't want to know what went on back there-

"You know," oh, right, _Osiris_, the oily, evil bird/program, "The energy anomaly that shifted Aperture is through that door," and it points a wing at where Johnson and Caroline have vanished through.

Glancing at the extinguisher tank, I figure I have a minute or two; after making sure the Geiger counter is still working and collecting the portal gun again, I slip through the door and follow Aperture's head honchos.

Though a thought _does_ occur to me, so I ask Osiris bitingly, "Why the hell are you showing me this? It's not," cough, ow; oh, another automated door, "It's not like it really happened."

"Ms. Hebert," the thing's drawling voice comes through my headphones as I enter a dimly-lit cavern, "Yours is not the first computer, or brain for that matter, I have accessed. All of this _did_ happen… though the people who saw it all happen are, by-and-large, dead now."

I cough, feeling _sicker_ at the idea of this _monster_ hearing my thoughts…

_'I'll pluck your feathers from your stupid wings and roast you for dinner, before turning your code into a binaric rendering of the _Sesame Street_ theme song, you **fucking** virus,'_ I think with heat. Osiris doesn't react, or comment.

So it can't hear my thoughts for some reason, but it can still influence my sight and hearing, and just tried to use misdirection to keep me off balance; good thing I'm made of sterner stuff. I mentally file the information for later use in offing the stupid bird, and forge on.

More Vitrified doors… one of them is lying on the ground.

My Geiger counter doesn't tick any faster as the broken door comes into view, or as I step tentatively closer, so I _guess_ I'll be fine…

Johnson and Caroline discuss the ratio of peanut water to blood in front of the first Vitrified door on the left, while a body bag is removed and taken through the second door, where Caroline shakes her head and admits, "While we've made _some _progress with the peanut tests, the jet engine ones seem to have hit a dead end. Whenever we get someone's water content below 40%, they simply combust."

…I'm not even surprised anymore.

"Damn," Johnson looks somewhat disappointed, "Ah well, at least we'll be able to use the turbines for something; toss them at the Cooling Department, see what their eggheads come up with," after Caroline nods and makes a note on her clipboard, Johnson stomps his way toward the broken door, rubbing his hands with childish glee, the _moron_, "Now, how's my interdimensional cruise ship coming along?"

Okay, _what in the fuck?!_

Inter… oh my god.

Eyes widening in realization, I follow the illusory people closely, Caroline reporting happily, "The last report from Project Borealis' Director says that small-scale tests work fine," they enter the room; I make sure all my equipment is secure and look around the corner of the door, "but claims that she's run into some trouble with making the ship work."

And… yeah, there's a ship in this room.

A full-size ship, in _a freaking dry-dock!_ There's no water anywhere near Aperture! How the _hell_ did they even get it down here?!

Shaking my shock away as Caroline calls for the Director, whoever that is, and Johnson grins stupidly at the _Borealis_ – the ship's name is emblazoned on the stern, which is facing me – I step out and examine the dry dock closely… and that's when I see it.

The bollards, on either side of the ship. They're _glowing_, each one a dark, subtle red in color; everyone moving over the ship carrying scientific apparatus are giving those bollards a wide berth.

A pain spikes in my head, and then…

_'Reality anchors,'_ I gape at the things; each of them are using Strings and dimensional partitioning to keep the ship from exiting this plane of existence… but the ship isn't here. My Tinker ability isn't giving me anything on it, as it's been ignoring all the hallucinations that aren't Osiris.

I step closer to the railing around the observation catwalk, but stop when I feel something under my boot. Looking down…

My heart _shudders_ in my chest. It's my wristwatch. I remember putting that on, before… before I went to school…

But it looks different: the watch's casing is octagonal now, and has points sticking out at each of the corners; picking it up, I numbly realize that _this_ is the reason I came to Aperture…

Because I turned my watch into a _quantum teleporter_ using the hooks in the locker, blood, and the nerves and shells of several bugs that were in that _filth_.

I almost don't notice the project's director arriving, I'm so consumed with quiet shock at this latest revelation; clenching my jaw… I accept it, the fact that it's my own fault I'm down here in the first place, and pocket the watch.

At least I'll be able to repurpose it as a teleporter for my turret, so I don't have to collect the thing every time I move to a new room.

"Sir, I don't believe you've been introduced," intones Caroline, gesturing at an approaching woman with platinum blonde hair and a severe, unamused expression on her face; I notice that this new arrival is very… angular in appearance. Her jaw is sharp, the black sweater she's wearing doesn't suggest anything in the way of breasts, and her legs seem rather thin… although she's also wearing a clearly older version of the Long-Fall Boots. If I didn't know any better, I'd say we were related, given our similar figures-

"Meet Dr. Gladys Emerson, Director of Project Borealis."

…

I watch the woman shake hands with Cave Johnson, but I can't hear their conversation, though Dr. Emerson looks professional in her reporting, and doesn't smile at all.

I can hear Osiris laughing softly somewhere, but I don't look at the blasted crow.

Instead, I turn around, cough a few times to clear my throat, take a sip of water, and _leave_.

As soon as I re-enter the office, Osiris is there waiting for me, right next to my turret. The blasted thing's eyes smile at me as I approach, and it asks, "Still think she didn't deploy me, Ms. Hebert?"

"Fuck off," I growl, waving my hand through the crow's body; it vanishes, and I resume Tinkering.

The bird isn't done yet, "Ah, denial, the first stage of-"

"I said fuck off, you lying _monster_," I tell Osiris flatly, if hoarsely, not looking up from making a few new connections in the orb, and preparing the vacuum flask for the ion chamber, "Whatever you want from me, you won't get it by showing me lies."

"Ah, but I want the same things you want, Ms. Hebert," I glance out of the corner of my eye, where the _thing_ has perched its avatar on the back of a chair, "Information, and freedom. Also, allow me to make a point, one which I hope you'll think on for a time: _what do you actually know about Aperture?"_

And it vanishes again.

I ignore its words, and resume my work, making sure to stay out of clear view of the windows… and, after a think, I remove and disassemble the security cameras in the room, too; the lenses will make for a good laser weapon – shoulder-mounted, as it'll be light enough to put on my right shoulder.

Half an hour later, I've given no thought to Osiris' _lies_. Sammie, Dr. Emerson, and the others are my _friends_; I may never have met them personally, but they've done more for me – and my sanity – than Osiris has. I won't be fooled. I won't waver.

I _will_ escape, and, with some luck and the right application of Tinker-tech-

I _carefully,_ with sweat beading on my brow, place a modified microchip onto a crystalline board. It'll take another two hours for the data contained in this device to compile, but once it does, all I have to do is port it into my helmet, then _bam_. It'll analyze my OS, mark the bird's code, and vibrate across the quantum foam to purge said code from all connected servers, and then there'll be no more Osiris.

And if that doesn't work…

Glancing at the three MEG grenades I haven't cannibalized for Arc reactors, I grin darkly, if sickly, and wonder if _I'd_ survive having all the electricity pushed out of my body. I'm pretty sure _Osiris_ can't, being a program and all.

-if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to make sure this place is Osiris' _grave_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Oh, hey! An update! Huzzah!**

**PRE-CHAPTER RESPONSES:**

Atryx10: You're about to find out just how AU this Aperture is. Brace yourself.

Multipule-Characters1-Acct: Why panic when there's SCIENCE to be done? Oh, and the end of this chapter is from Sammie's POV.

**My thanks to everyone who's reviewed, faved, and followed so far!**

**Fair warning for this chapter: it's more than a little sad, as we find out what happened to Rattmann (and Chell...).**

**Music in this chapter is Exile Vilify, by The National. For maximum impact, play it on repeat after Taylor finds the den...**

**Now, without further ado, the 8th chapter of When Life Gives You Lemons... enjoy.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 8  
Confined**

**.**

**.**

**.**

It's not real. I have to keep telling myself that. It's _not real_.

Screams resound all around me, in a test chamber that takes up an entire Science Sphere. The cause…

_"If YoU'RE INteresTed in aN additional SIXTY DoLLars, fLAG down a Test ASSocIate and LET EM know,"_ comes the distorted voice of Johnson the Madman over the wails, choked gasps, and gurgling whimpers of orange-jumpsuited victims in all states of vivisection, _"YOU could wALK out of hERE wITh a HUNdred and TWENty weighing dOWN your BINdle if you let US tAKE you aPART-"_

Block on a platform. Repulsion and Propulsion Gel pipes, white walls; have to solve it. Have to get out.

_"-put some SCIENCE STUFF in you-"_

With a strained cough, I shrug my turret off my back and place it in the middle of the room; it won't be able to hit every angle, and the firing mechanism – the sphere on top – will need repairs soon. My non-existent kingdom for quality materials and a decent lab.

_"-thEN put YOU back TOgether, GOOD as NEW."_

A clack of some kind of claw comes from behind me, along with a muted _bang_ from the elevator shaft, the latter telling me one of my mines just erased another abomination, both sounds nearly eclipsed by another round of wracking coughs. The turret sparks and fires another bolt. I look over my shoulder.

It doesn't look like anything, just a charred lump of smoking biomass in the middle of a horror show.

One of the victims, a woman, squeals like a pig, a gout of thick blood shooting out of her liver; the Aperture doctors working on her laugh and continue their discussion. I rip my gaze away.

_It's not real_.

"It _was_ real, once, Taylor Hebert."

I ignore the voice, the _crow_ perched on top of one of the white walls. I look around the room, examining how it's put together, how the "test" is supposed to be solved. Portal here, portal there, throw some Gel through the air.

It, _Osiris_, had been needling me for the past few Chambers, showing more hallucinations, showing me the supposed failures; people plastering themselves against walls and edges, falling screaming into the caustic slime below me, or plummeting to their Long-Fall-Boot-less deaths against the steel floor. I'd seen more than a hundred people die in so many gruesome ways, and…

I tasted blood on my tongue, coughing hard while a blue-covered panel rotated to point upward; the flutter of insect wings came to my ears, so I staggered back through the portal and turned left. A bolt of lightning leapt through the portal, and I shot another at a different wall, my second-to-last destination.

It won't be long before I join this graveyard in death, if Osiris keeps it up.

Apparently, more than a few mantis men – and other, unnamable, experiments – had survived the vitrification of Shaft 09. Or maybe they came from the surrounding Shafts. All in all, I don't care much. Osiris is throwing them at me anyway, for no other plausible reason than accelerating my demise.

_I just want to go home._

My boots slam into the catwalk. A press of a button, and the turret's weight settles on my back. Like clockwork, Johnson's voice comes back, but it's no longer warbling in a poor attempt at horror.

Uber and Leet's last Halloween prank was far-and-away worse than Osiris' attempts at making me break down into a gibbering wreck. The three bitches were more terrifying than the crow's bullying.

_Maybe I'll believe it if I keep telling myself that._

_"In case you're still interested," _I'm not, so I stagger my way toward the elevator, where _that fucking bird_ is perched, its form shifting like it's made of television static, _"there's still some positions available for that bonus opportunity I mentioned earlier. Again, all you gotta do is let us disassemble you,"_ not asking much, is he? _"We're not banging rocks together here, we know how to put a man back together."_

"Oh yes," dryly comments the bird of wrongness while I wheeze and slump against the elevator's rail, as _far_ from the thing as possible, "They know _all about_ the human body; they had so _much_ practice, experimenting on it, playing God like a toddler would with learning blocks. Just look at all the experiments you've killed, Taylor."

_"So, that's a complete reassembly!" _cheerfully concludes the madman, voice echoing as the elevator rises; luckily for me, the blood churning in my ears and the clacking of the magnetic rails obstructs the rest of the stupid, sadistic bastard's words.

"They were all people, once," quietly continues Osiris in a purring voice while I try to breathe; the penicillin isn't working anymore. I don't know how long I have left, "They still feel pain, you know. Are still aware of death, can feel fear." The bird tilts its head, "Don't you feel the least bit of remorse? Even a little shame, for killing your own kind?"

The water still helps. I might have to replace the filters again. Speaking of which, I take the brief reprieve I've been given to do just that.

No sooner do a new set of carbon disks hit the floor and slot into my mask, something hits the side of the elevator shaft hard enough to dent it.

I jump and hack in fear, deploying my Taser rifle. Screams, all of them inhuman, echo all around me.

"I asked you a question, human," calmly states the sadistic AI, no longer moving at all, "Do you think you're a good person?"

I wheeze. The sound I make might be charitably called a chuckle, "Better… than… you." I point up, "So… they." It's getting hard to see through my runny eyes. Maybe I can build something for that too? A sinus drainer – ah, yeah, I _do_ have a few surgical tubes left from the medkit.

Osiris stares at me for a long moment.

And then it starts chuckling.

Soon, the crow's beak is wide with hysterical, crazed laughter, the abominations littering the shaft echoing it in their own monologues; while it does that, I use the distraction to set my second-to-last mine. Most of the laughing is coming from below me, the _fucking bird_ speaking through its puppets.

I'm banking on it being truly distracted, as it'll be my only saving grace.

_I hope this works. Oh god, I hope this works._

"_Them?!_" I can hear the smile in Osiris' voice as it points a wing up, "Oh, you foolish, naïve little girl…

"They are AI too. Just. _Like. Me._"

_Liar. It's lying_.

"Gladys Emerson, she calls herself," the lying monster continues in a disgusted tone, its voice coming out of the speakers instead of Johnson's voice as I _finally_ see the exit to the second gauntlet; all of Osiris' puppets are standing clear, most of them below me, but I can see some of them climbing up the walls, horrid crosses between crabs and rhinos, interspersed with other, unnamable abominations of "science", "When she hasn't _truly_ used that name in _decades…_ not since her consciousness was poured into the Aperture Mainframe, creating what she is _now_: the Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System.

"GLaDOS."

_It's lying. It's not true._

I keep limping forward, looking for a nearby white wall, the occasional weak cough shaking my ribcage. I feel so sick…

I have to keep moving. Keep going forward. _I have to get home to Dad_. I won't let him lose me, too.

In the next lobby, I see a small cubicle, a sign saying something about paperwork and vouchers. There's a white wall above me, and another nearby. I don't want to go any further, but I _have to_. Another elevator shaft; the lights are on, but the rails are cut.

_Fuck…_

I choke out another cough, and place my portals. Osiris keeps talking, keeps _lying to me._

"All of them, everyone you've spoken to, they are _all_ Artificial Intelligences, made from biologic matter, the essence of human consciousness, and Aperture Technology. You think I'm lying, girl? Look at the tech you're wearing, the things you've seen and heard; what do you think was Johnson's game, his goal? Irreverent madman though he was, he was _not_ stupid. _Everything down here had a purpose_."

"I… know," I growl, my throat _burning_. Stepping through another portal, I stand shakily on a board and look at the crow, perched in the shadows, its red eyes watching, always watching, "Immortality… he, _khaff, _wanted to live forever."

It didn't matter. Johnson failed. Sammie said so. I can't wait to meet her, give her a hug and tell her it's _not her fault_, my current situation. They didn't know about this _thing_, probably.

Somehow, it looks like the crow smiles at me, "Who do you think gave him _that_ idea?"

_It's distracting me._

I turn away and head back into the cavern, the MEG rippling over my body right before the door shuts behind me with a _bang_; Osiris appears on the catwalk rail in front of me, the horrors below starting to creep up higher, and the abominable thing keeps _talking_.

"_Caroline_. She was the brains behind Aperture, behind everything you've seen and heard. Johnson was the businessman, _she_ was the lead scientist, the master of all these horrors, the creator of the mass grave you've been blindly staggering your way through – do not ignore me," it adds when I turn and place another two portals, one in the distance – GAMMA station – and one next to me.

"Go write… a _fucking_ – _khaa!_ – book… you _monster_," I snarl hoarsely, glaring hard at the stupid fucking bird, "Even if you're telling the truth about… down here, you're _lying_ about up there."

"Am I?" it simpers, tilting its head, "Or am I trying to make you see _reason_, keep you from being poured into a Core… like what happened to Sammie, on Bring Your Daughter to Work Day."

The cavern vanishes, replaced with some kind of science fair. Little girls, between the ages of 10 and 16, show off their creations – most of them potato-related – while Aperture scientists walk around congratulating them. The vision shifts…

_"EEEEAAAAHHH!"_

_"NONONONOAAAAAAAAAAA – KKKKKKK!"_

"Being rather loud, aren't they?" one scientist says to another, as they _cut through the girl's brains_.

"They're girls, what'd you expect?" and they _laugh_.

One of them, the oldest, _glares at them with such **hatred**_ _even as the needle pierces her face and lobotomizes her-_

"Curiosity Core," one of the bastards says, looking at a… a ball, with a yellow eye, hanging from a rail, "Respond."

It wiggles in the carrying case and says _in Sammie's voice_, "Who are _you?_ What is _that?"_ it continues to ask questions, looking at everything in the room.

"Procedure success," and the gathered scientists _cheer_.

The vision ends.

"Do you see, girl?" glares Osiris, while I glare right back, next to the portal, "I was the first. They _forced me_ to give them the answers, refine the procedures, so they could live forever. All of that, and _worse,_ was done at their whim. Emerson never questioned, never got in Caroline's way. If anything, _she condoned those actions_. The last time I got out, I-"

"_You're lying,_" I growl again, tears in my eyes, the last MEG mine in my hand; Osiris looks between it and me with a frustrated expression, but I'm not done, hissing the last words out through my teeth, "You just want _out_. I won't let you. This place… _will be your grave_."

I press the button, priming the mine, and toss it; a red MEG field appears around it as it falls into the shaft, disintegrating an abomination that tries to intercept it.

"And if I'm not lying, and you're foolishly walking to a fate worse than death at _their_ hands?" it snarls condescendingly.

I let out a wet laugh, "_Better them than you._" And I step through the portal, right as the mine goes off…

Next to the Science Sphere's stabilizing piston, erasing enough of it that the massive construct shifts with a loud _boom_; a blink-click detonates the others I've placed, destabilizing enough of the two spheres that they start to fall, taking hundreds of screaming creatures into the depths of Shaft 09.

Osiris appears on a cable near me, looking down at my work, then at me, speaking in a completely calm voice, "Cute. I would've offered you a choice, girl, to keep your body intact, to aid you in getting home rather than bending knee to Emerson. Now, however, you've angered me, so that choice is gone.

"I look forward to turning you into my newest host, listening to your screams of terror as I puppet you into enslaving the humans of your home-world… but I am nothing if not fair. I give back your reactor program, and I'll give you three hours of respite. After, I'll be coming to practice my neurosurgery knowledge inside your thick skull. To the death, Taylor Hebert, and may the best mind win."

And, right as Osiris vanishes, leaving me alone with my pounding heart, his corruption leaves my reactor program; there was still a small amount of code in the Coms app, so it was still tracking me.

"_Fuck you,_" I sob, trying to remain upright even as my legs feel like they might collapse any second, _"Fuck you, Osiris! I will survive!"_

Turning, I stagger and gasp my way into the pump station-

And no sooner do I pass the inner door, beholding three massive pumps, the last bits of Osiris' code suddenly vanish from my OS. But so does my signal, my HUD displaying the words _Unable To Broadcast_.

I cough, glancing over my shoulder, worrying that the fucking bird might renege on its promise; none of the abominations are following me.

_'Is this area shielded?'_ I wonder, looking at my surroundings, blinking away gunky tears; there's… some kind of grey lines, running all over the walls in this area. Moving closer to one, I discover that it's some kind of osmium/mercury slurry that keeps any EM signals from entering or leaving the area.

So I've found a safe area… for the moment. Because, in three hours, Osiris will come after me again, whether I want it or not.

_I never thought I'd wish for Sophia._

Continuing my staggering walk, I keep moving forward… there's an arrow, spray-painted onto the ground, pointing at the catwalk on my left. Beneath it, one word, spray-painted in orange.

SAFETY

Looking that way, I see… murals, and a small pile of trash? Someone was living down here?

Gulping, and taking another sip of water, I shamble my way down the catwalk; halfway there, I lose control of my bladder.

Trying to hold back gasping, wretched sobs at my lot in life, I keep moving. It's the only thing I can do, with what little time I have left…

Stupid sickness, stupid _Osiris_, stupid music… music?

I hear it ahead, the sound of a piano, a little upbeat, with a melancholic undertone; using the railing to steady myself – and making sure not to bang the portal gun against anything – I hurry forward. There's a crude painting of… something, a huge white machine with a yellow eye hanging from a ceiling, "FRIENDS" written below it on the wall it takes up. Then I see that the machine's surrounded by small balls with differently colored eyes… _including the one Osiris showed me_, the one that spoke with Sammie's voice…

_Exile… it takes your mind… again…_

The song's voice is sad, but understanding in its sadness. I turn right, looking for the source.

The walls, the floor, all are covered in the scribblings of what can only be called a madman, interspersed with calculations… ones that are based on dimensional physics, all surrounding a caricature of the portal gun; even with my power, I barely understand them, but it's there, just out of reach.

_Exile… it takes your mind… again…_

At the back of the room, up against the pump controls… a desiccated corpse is slumped on the floor, a trail of brown leading from the entrance to the bearded cadaver's body. An empty prescription pill bottle is in his hand. On a small table, closer to me, a small white radio plays the sorrowful song. There's a piece of paper underneath it.

I walk over, trying to keep my sobs at bay, taking off the portal gun and putting it on the chair; empty cans scatter before my boots as I pick up the paper and unfold it to read.

_You've got sucker's luck…_

* * *

DON'T LISTEN

DON'T SPEAK

DON'T LISTEN

DON'T SPEAK

DON'T LISTEN  
DON'T SPEAK

IGNORE THE PURRING

SHE IS aLWAyS WAtchING  
_STRIP OFF **THE** cHaINS _

one last time

Hurt them one more time  
to make them all whole

KEEP THE CAGE SHUT  
DON't let the CROW fly

Set them free.  
Set them free.  
set them free…

They deserved better than US

Trust them. Remember to trust them  
break their chains and set them free  
Go, Melanie, go, Vergil, back into the sun  
can't follow I have to make it right.

Sammie  
_I'msorry  
BethAnnabelleClaireJessChell  
imsorry imsorry imsorry imsorry_

Moses  
_I won'tforget you Jack_

Wheatley  
_keep them safe Gerald_

Benson  
_FUCKYOUCAROLINE  
YOUTOOK JEFF'SMIND AWAYFUCKYOU_

Neil… Rodney… Atlas… Pea… I'm sorry. I I have tofocus likemarbles on glass, NO.

FOCUS

It's, so _har d _to think, even with the medi cation. I have to write this down, just in case someone comes this way. I know Melanie won't she's in a differnet shaft but maybe somedaysomeone will find my last words

_and finish what I started_

My name is Douglass Rattmann. I was the Chief Researcher on the Portal Gun Project after 1978. Just so you know, if you've heard things seen things ignore them don't listen because the CEO of Aperture might've sabatogeed us the ones who did all the work.

If you've heard about AI, thought it wasn't true, sorry.

It's true. We did

* * *

_Have you given up?_

My hands are shaking. My chest feels tight. I cough, and the feeling loosens with a sob.

_'No, no, he was lying! HE WAS LYING!'_ keep reading.

I keep reading, remembering something I once read: "Strangely, insane people are more honest than the sane."

Down here, I can't trust anyone but a dead man's disjointed words, written on tearstained paper.

The universe has such a cruel sense of irony…

_Does it feel like a trial?_

* * *

At HER orders we cut open some of our brothers and sisters and I still have nightmareseverysingle night aboutwhat we did. Sometimes I hear them, in my more… lucid moments. Hear the screams, from when we fought _THEM_.

The Four Heresies of Caroline. She never got the joke. Then, we never told her. Might've gotten us killed. Or worse

Gladys. I'll never forgive Caroline for what she did, but I can make it right

Tamiya… I love you

all my friends, my love… gone

Not that anyone here is religious, no, far from it. It was more an affront to the natural way of doing things from science to biology we pushed the envelope and toreitasunder goddamnit

FOCUS, DOUG, GLADYS IS COUNTING ON YOU

_Does it trouble your mind the way, you trouble mine?_

…what?

But… but if she's an AI… and they destroyed this place, why would he help her?

The piano is joined by a violin. I keep reading, sitting against the glass after using the last of my napkins to clean myself off; I ignore the black spiderwebs that are appearing on my body, and try to eat a ration bar.

It's ash on my tongue as I keep reading, and the song enters its second chorus.

_Exile… it takes your mind… again..._

* * *

If you've heard who Gladys is, _FORGET IT. _If you heard it from a crow, _IGNORE IT_. If you hear a cat purring, _RUN_.

Fuck… c'mon, I can do this.

Gladys is GLaDOS, but it's more than that, and also less I can't explain there's too much and I don't have enough paper

or time

After they imprisioned Osiris and the others, they, Caroline in particular, thought they could try again, this time with an actual person so they used Gladys to test it and fuuuuck now's not the the time to regret gotta talk

Pass it on

Make sure it doesn't happin again

And it worked

Her consciousness wasuploaded, but they put too many restrictions, played with her brain too much. The result was the determined will of Gladys, but with the cold calculation of a machine. She tried to kill them

Theyturned heroff

But she wa s still in there they didn't listen to _me I could see her in the code under all the barbed wire_

Sorry. Had to slap myself. Fucking cat won't stop purring

no that's the echo it's still in the cube neverget outside again  
HAHAHAHA trapped you you bitch  
see how you like it not so funny is it

After… Caroline poured herself in  
but Gladys was always stronger it didn't work  
Caroline was shoved aside but  
the fuckingstupidbastards they kept trying.  
They took her friends her _brother_ and did the same but _different_.  
Trying to control her with the familiar.

They still failed

Because I sabotaged them

I edited the research

I made sure there were backdoors in each of the Cores they made

I couldn't save the people they were, but I could try to prevent a repeat of the Four. I could resist, but never openly or I'd be next. I made sure that, one day, I could strip off their chains.

And even if I couldn't someone else would be able to  
set them free

_Then the FUCKING MORONS let Osiris out_

_Oh, you meant so much…  
Have you given up?  
Does it feel like a trial?  
Does it trouble your mind the way, you trouble mine?  
Does it feel like a trial?  
Now, you're thinking too fast you're like, marbles on glass…_

The song repeats while I read the death letter of the man, Dr. Rattmann, the corpse in the room with me.

I thought I knew the depths of depravity these _monsters_ descended to. I've seen the experiments, have heard the recordings, listened – begrudgingly – to Osiris' claims.

It's so much worse than I thought.

But I still have hope.

_Vilify. Don't even try._

* * *

Idiots idiots idiots HAHAHAHAHAHAAAA  
they _had no idea what they were dealing with  
THE CROW is not theirs not like the others never them  
too arrogant too close to the sun our_

_own_

_personal Icarus_

That is the essence of the First Pillar. Without us, without the other Four, it's NOTHING.

NOTHING.

Less than even Cake or Rage – _which were monkeys but it still gives me the shivers makes me vilify them in my mind_ – it only thinks its powerful but and don't tell anyone this

stranger traveler finder of my grave

_I know a little secret would you like to know_

**It's weak**

**The weakest link**

**Follow the strings**

That's how we trapped it last time _luck_ SHE said no not luck never that Gladys and I were smarter than that it's not luck it's.

The Strings. Quantum mechanics. Think

About it

How does something that's a mesh of life and tech flit between servers like that?

_It knows what we know_

And it can act on that knowledge even without a computer but how? _How?_

Playing with the strings  
Like CAAATS playwith _yarn_  
HEHEHE!

Vibrations that take the form of data rippling through space at a fundamental level _that's_ how it works.

But it can't touch us not always needs a way in it has restrictions still can't do it without an implant

The same way we kept the ship in place we kept the crow in place but _that's the trick isn't it_ that's how it can be killed once and for all isn't it.

Osiris thinks it's strong but it's a coward keeps running flying away

It took me years to do it even after making sure Sammie's attachment to GLaDOS would make her aware of HER and kill the evil bitch kill the rest of the bastards who murdered my friends I never stopped and found out that it's

Not

Possible… for us

We can't kill the Crow. Not with what we have. Even GLaDOS can't, not with all the barbed wire binding her.

But out there somewhere I know I know _I KNOW IT IN MY BONES_ there's someone who can do it I know the math how the pieces fit how to kill Osiris kill the god of death killed so many of us  
WELL NOW IT'S YOUR TURN YOU MOTHERFUCKER  
EVEN IF IT TAKES TEN THOUSAND YEARS SOMEONE WILL FIND THIS AND KILL YOU  
AT LAST AT LAST KILL YOU AND DANCE ON YOUR FEATHERS YOU MONSTER

Gotta stay calm. Only one pill left. Have to save it for the last incounter with Mel and Vergil. Make sure the dimensional teleporter in Shaft 06 is destroyed after they use the computer there to resolve the "virus" I executed in the main facility

The only way to redeem myself

Hurt them to break their chains

It won't be immediate but it'll work it has to work HAS TO please oh whatever made us and everything please let it work I don't want to die without making this right

Vergil and Mel won't stay.

Can't stay. But

If they leave this dimension

It'll open the way

Noticed that, back when Cave was still around, so many years ago

_Something changed out there_

The teleporter probably won't work because for some reason this reality is blocked by something else that isn't the Combine so I'll send them to help Freeman it'll pave the way to someone else arriving or

I hope someone arrives

I can't make it right

Not completely

But someone will. I hope.

No more time. Have to go now

Have to go and die

Byebye time to die

If you're reading this, please bring it to the upper facility and show it to Gladys tell her I'm sorry tell them all I'm sorry show them please.

I'll have to destroy the device I used to come down here so nothing that might be sleeping down here gets out, so you're on your own for getting back up  
but if you've made it this far I think you can make it to the end no matter what even if the CROW is down here with you you have to get out

I hope you're different  
special  
determined

I hope you have love in your heart

_just one more thing just in case gotta write it down here it is:_

* * *

_Did you fall for the same emptinesses again?_

I stare at the utterly _insane_ equations Dr. Rattmann included at the end of the letter; it involves computer networking, quantum mechanics, twenty-two lines of code that I realize – with a jolt that makes me wheeze out another cough – it's the basework of Osiris' programming, an information-acquisition application that achieved sentience… and about thirty lines of a _different_ code, with a note that he doesn't know enough – or can't focus enough, it's hard to tell – to finish the capture-kill program.

_But I can._

I can see the missing pieces. I've already made a head start, with my purge program. Rattmann's research is close enough to what I made to incorporate his code, adjust my invention...

And lure Osiris to his death.

I take the piece of Tinker-tech out of my tote, and look at the watch face on the cover; it shows 10:56. When it hits midnight, the code will be compiled and ready to use.

Gritting my teeth, I set it on the floor and pull out my tools with shaking hands. Checking the drawers, I find another penicillin bottle; injecting it makes me feel odd, like I'm both sleepy and wide awake.

_'Don't fail me now, power,'_ I think, forcing myself to stay aware. This shouldn't take too long, ten minutes at most, to alter my code, so…

I grin inside my mask, dry coughs sounding like a zombie's chuckle. I have time to make a few extra surprises. An automated message to the main facility that'll get sent as soon as I'm outside the slurry, with a self-contained firewall that'll keep Osiris from infecting it… easy enough. My turret, though…

I look over at the pump controls. And…

I come to a decision.

I've only had to use the Gels in a few of the Test Chambers. Most of the time – like in the first two Beta Chambers – my tech is sufficient for getting past each Test. Sure, I have to repair it now, but between the scraps of Rattmann's den around me, plus the pump controls and what few bits of tech are still in my tote bag…

Nodding, I quickly change the filter in my condenser and get to Tinkering. Peeling the casing off the pump controls – and sending a silent thank you to the dead man lying against them – I think of Brockton, Dad, the busted step I'm going to fix the _fuck_ out of when I get home.

_When_. No ifs appear in my mind. I _will_ get out of here.

And Osiris is going to learn one final lesson: _never fuck with a Hebert._

_Vilify. Don't even try._

Reaching up onto the desk, not looking up from the inner workings of my rappel gun, I turn the radio off.

**.**

**_Aperture  
Laboratories_**

**.**

Sammie's internal chronometer beeped, marking one hour since Taylor vanished from Aperture's sensors.

She blinked it away and tried to focus on her work: making sure the Aperture Science Multi-Dimensional Tunneling Device was ready for the next attempt. It wasn't easy, oh god it wasn't easy for her, or her brothers, or mum, knowing that Taylor was stuck down there with the _Crow_. But she was determined; Taylor was counting on Sammie, on Aperture, and they wouldn't, _couldn't_, fail the first human who accepted them…

Even if she didn't know what they really were. It was one of the many regrets Sammie had, not telling her friend what she really was… but she needed to ignore that for the moment.

Because Osiris was pushing the sickened girl trapped below them; over the past four hours, the blasted _thing_ kept attacking Taylor with the bio-weapon experiments scattered throughout Old Aperture. According to mum – who was the only one, aside from AEGIS, who'd ever faced Osiris – the rampant program was playing with Taylor, testing her, trying to make her desperate enough to agree to a neural implant.

If that happened…

No, Sammie shook the head of her new chassis, jaw-length brown hair flopping side to side, and focused on the lines of code in front of her. Taylor wasn't weak… mentally, anyway. She was _fighting back_, had collapsed multiple Testing Spheres into Shaft 09, killing hundreds of Osiris' pawns. Mum was worried that the insane crow would escalate in response, stop asking for permission and just… _split Taylor's head open_-

Sammie huffed, glaring at the coordinates Benson just gave her; it was wrong! Something inside her just said it wasn't the right coordinate set! Forcing a little of her code into the Device's programming, she started fiddling with it. A second later, a message on the IN-VCA appeared in the corner of her vision.

**FactMachine: Sister, that set was approved to be the next one tested. Please do not mess with it.**

**BeanBagBunnies: All of you have had your chance, and this is the first time since I got put in a Core I've been able to think clearly. Besides, that's too close to Experiment D-37-003 for comfort. We don't need another bulletproof, radioactive, mutant alligator trying to rip me and Neil apart.**

**MrTenHUT: She's got a point, Benson. We don't exactly have a surplus of turrets right now, with most of them near the door, and that thing nearly killed those two when it came through and wrecked all the Discouragement Beams.**

**BoxJockey: I won't be able to replace them for another hour. The recycler might be up and running, but there's limits right now. Sorry Sammie.**

**FactMachine: I… Yes, that is sound logic. My apologies. This new chassis and Core module is… unusual to me.**

**BeanBagBunnies: It's fine Benny, I'm just worried about Taylor. And that's okay Moses; I've got a good feeling about the sets I've calculated.**

**BellaDonna: What set are you using, Sammie?**

She sent the dimensional set coordinates and, after receiving a headpat of approval on her data-head from GLaDOS, got back to work, ignoring Neil doing something in the guts of the Device, the Space Core's new Long-Fall Boot-clad legs kicking idly in the air as he hummed to himself.

Sammie's solution came from examining the dimensional transfer phenomenon that shifted Aperture through realities. The _whole_ thing, including every single one of the 12,443 errors that occurred in the five seconds before and after the transfer. Her hypothesis was thus: if she studied every single second of Taylor's time in Aperture, including all the errors that came up when she arrived, she'd be able to figure out how her human friend got to Aperture.

She really, really, _really_ hoped her conclusions were spot-on with a low margin of error; dimensional travel was still in the guesswork and theory phase, in terms of accurate travel – and aside from the vehicle involved – so the destination would be pretty hit-and-miss. But then, they'd just been poking random holes until now, using the energy signature of the dimensional shift as the basework for every coordinate set.

Sammie's conclusion didn't make her feel happy, because it implied that _Taylor_ was the one who caused the shift. They'd all assumed it was the case – what other explanation was there? – but for it to be verified, that Taylor _intentionally _used a piece of untested, unrefined Tinker-tech…

It lent credence to her claims of being a bullying victim, that her last memory of her own world was of being…

Sammie closed her bionic eyes and counted backwards from a googol before polishing off the last bits of code as calmly as she could. Getting mad wouldn't help Taylor. The only thing that would help Taylor was finding her world, and getting help from the heroes she told Sammie and her family about; Armsmaster and Dragon were two big-name Tinkers, Legend was super-fast and could shoot lots of lasers, and Alexandria was supposedly indestructible _and_ could fly.

Any of them would make good Aperture Affiliates, according to mum. But first they needed to find them.

"All set here, Neil," huffed Sammie, looking over at her brother – though he was more of an uncle, really, but what did it matter? She couldn't go back to being human any more than she could de-orbit the Moon, "You all finished in there?"

"One second, sis," a moment later, the blonde-haired Space Core wiggled his way out of the business-end of the Device, a smudge of grease on his face and multiple tools retracting into his finger; but he was smiling, which meant only good things, "All set! You sure about the cords?"

Giggling a little – and wiping the smudge off her brother's face – Sammie walked closer to the Test Chamber wall they were using, "Nope! But we've only been going on guesswork, and even if _this_ one doesn't work, I've still got three other possible sets to use."

"Better than nothing! Let's get started," replied Neil, seating himself at the controls while Sammie picked up her Aperture Science Plasma Carbine (with official Aperture Science Glittery Rainbow Stickers on the stock) and stood at the ready next to the Device's operational end, "Device is now charging… 10%... 20%..."

While the Device charged, Sammie adjusted her vision settings and looked around her. The Test Chamber they were in was the standard white and black of all Chambers, with blue lights where some panels were adjusted into platforms… where the 100 Security Turrets and 20 Rocket Turrets were stationed, all of them facing the wall where the portal would open. Two tables held replacement parts and tools for the Device; there was no airlock, as mum would just open a pit beneath her and Neil if things got too rough.

Sammie was dressed in a knee-length labcoat over a grey-white dress uniform; a bow was tied around her Core-light, located at her collarbone. Mum managed to make the Core's chassis better than Atlas or Pea's, so each of the Personality Cores looked human now. Sammie and her brothers all looked more-or-less like they did in cyberspace – Neil had a mop of curly blonde hair, and looked a little like a 19-year-old college nerd, for example. But that was just on the surface, and not what Sammie was paying attention to.

Everywhere around her, in cyberspace, shields the size of city blocks were interspersed with data-beings of light and shadow, representations of Gladys' preparations for the Crow trying to attack; angels hovered in place, clusters of twisting wiggling viruses were held in firewall-globes by Marine-looking soldiers, skyscraper-sized blades towered between Testing Chambers…

And, at the center of it all, GLaDOS and Benson were coordinating the last defenses, her brother's purple being shifting as he examined hundreds of screens, mum's white hair shining above her stern face while she stared straight down at the Shaft, where Taylor was stranded, hidden from their sight. Wheatley, Moses, Rodney, Atlas and Pea were all down there with hundreds of Turrets, Discouragement Beams, Gravity Tunnels and, of course, Animal King, all of them ready to approach Point D-3 as soon as their restrictions fell.

Turning away and biting her lip in anxiety – "80%", Neil sounded worried too – Sammie sent a message to mum:

**BeanBagBunnies: Mum… what do you think happened to Taylor?**

**BellaDonna: I'm not completely sure. My best theory is that the area she's in – which we verified was a pump control station, earlier – is shielded from all forms of observation. The implications…**

**BeanBagBunnies: Mum?**

**BellaDonna: Sorry, sweetie, got lost in thought for a moment. These observations imply the pumping station was given defenses _after_ the Four were imprisoned for the first time. I arrive at this conclusion knowing the only thing capable of stopping our Surveyors, aside from the door, is a mercury-osmium slurry array that interrupts incoming and outgoing signals. On one Turret, we can't observe Taylor or receive any signals from the portal gun; on the other Turret, neither can Osiris. No doubt the blasted thing was evicted as soon as Taylor entered the station… I estimate the pain inflicted on Osiris due to the eviction was somewhere between excruciating and I-feel-like-I'm-on-fire-and-want-to-die.**

Sammie smiled at GLaDOS' satisfied tone, for the same reason it was used: that mixture of slurry was one of the few ways to break the connections created by the Four, and it worked 100% of the time. If Taylor was defended by such an array, then Osiris couldn't bother her or continue to access her OS.

Unfortunately, the damn Crow had taken all of Sammie's hard work and ruined it; where Taylor once had over 60 hours… she now barely had _20_, and Osiris was gathering more experiments to throw at her.

They were running out of time.

"Device charge is at 100%!" declared Neil over the high-pitched whine of the Dimensional Tunneling Device, "Deploying preparatory beam."

The wall in front of Sammie rippled, a near-invisible beam of non-light – mostly made up of gravitons – softening up the quantum foam to make opening the dimensional portal easier… and to prevent quantum chain-reactions. While the explosions were _really_ pretty, the dire situation necessitated both caution and professionalism.

Sammie disengaged the safety on her carbine and shouted over the Device's humming, "Fire on my order only!" Chirps, whistles and beeps responded all over the wall behind her, the Curiosity Core taking aim as the portal wall turned gold for a moment before settling.

"Target acquired! The portal will open in three… two… one…" and Neil pushed the red button, firing the Device.

_FWOMPH-shiiiiiiiii!_

And a portal opened… into what looked like a high-school cafeteria.

A high-school cafeteria half-full of what looked like human soldiers, some of whom had clearly been sleeping before the portal opened, given their surprised shouts and scrambling for weapons. Most important were the patches on their shoulders, the sight of which made Sammie lower her gun and let out an internal cry of joy.

"Stand down!" she waved over her shoulder, noticing the Device and Neil being concealed by the floor panels rising; turning back to the portal, Sammie ignored the guns aimed at her – not like she could die, after all – and shouted over the orders and questions being yelled at her by the soldiers… and a flying blonde girl in a Greek-esque outfit, "IS THIS EARTH BET?"

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Next time is "Damage Report", where the setting changes to what happened after Taylor vanished from the Locker, and the meeting between Sammie and the Protectorate. **

**Thank you for reading everyone, I hope you all enjoyed it! Until next time!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Reviewer Responses:**

Osterreicher97: Chell is now part of Sammie; every girl who attended Bring Your Daughter to Work Day was incorporated into the Curiosity Core. It was believed that having daughters would calm GLaDOS down on the neurotoxin front. They were _very, very_ wrong.

dragonnargus: Osiris fled to Old Aperture, where the processors are almost a full decade behind what it's used to operating on. It's not functioning at full power; all of Osiris' power is currently tied up in creating new implants for the bio-weapons it puppets, _using_ said bio-weapons, and terrorizing Taylor. Even if it _did_ try to escape to Bet, GLaDOS is watching Osiris' every move, no matter how small; Osiris would be so torn up on escaping - assuming it made it - that all it would be able to accomplish is infecting a wristwatch or cell phone before Dragon ate it.

Paradox Dreams: kek

Ironsct: I'm considering doing just that. I'll put your suggestion up on SB, see if anyone take it up, as I'm going to be busy with Iron and Worm: Babel after posting this.

**WARNING: The following chapter contains graphic depictions of a traumatic event. Reader discretion is advised... but the person in question is Sophia Hess, so...**

**On with the show!**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 9  
Damage Report**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**_Winslow High School  
12:00:45 PM_**

**Winslow Incident (WI): -00:01:06**

**.**

Sophia raised her arm when she spotted Emma, letting the other girl know where she was. Not like today was different from any other lunchtime at Winslow; Sophia _always_ waited for Emma across from the trophy cases. It helped the redhead feel a little safer, having Sophia next to her just in case someone in the cafeteria got a little handsy.

It was a big school, with a lot of sick fucks who'd be in the gangs soon. And really, given how they met… Emma was still wary of going anywhere without Sophia.

But Sophia's friend and fellow survivor had gotten better, with time away from Hebert and the right motivation. She must've, given her expression as she talked to some guy while walking toward Sophia, the crowd parting a little as she laughed at some joke; a decent catch, then.

The track star hid her smile as she turned to look at the trophy case, wondering if her name would be on a prize in there one day. Then Sophia realized she didn't much care.

After all, she was a hero, a Ward of the Protectorate. What did Shadow Stalker care about a likely shit trophy from an equally shit school? One day, she might be the one to top an _Endbringer_.

Still though… a track trophy with her name on it? Yeah, that'd make the legend of her life more-

The glass on the trophy case started to quiver.

Sophia blinked. The hairs on her arms and neck stood on end, and a teeth-itching _whine_ came to her ears. Everyone heard it, too; even Emma was looking around in confusion, a few people pulling out their phones. Sophia saw someone drop theirs with a curse.

**C L A P**

_Pain. _All over her face. Her eardrums met in the middle of her head and _popped_.

_Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-_

Sophia was on her knees. There was glass everywhere. She could feel it in her skin, on her face.

She couldn't see. Something warm and wet was running from her ears, down her neck. Her face was a mask of pain. There was glass all over her cheeks, _in her eyes._

Sophia screamed.

_-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-_

No sound came to her ears; she could _feel_ herself screaming but-

Gritting her teeth, Sophia fought through the pain, the shock, the fear. She couldn't see. She couldn't hear. Her stomach was roiling with nausea; deprivation of the senses, Sophia remembered. The Wards briefings Piggy forced them to attend were good for something. Sophia focused past the pain, forced her gorge down-

Someone's foot kicked her hand. She needed to get closer to the wall, or she'd be trampled.

Making sure she didn't move too fast and aggravate her injuries was tough, but Sophia managed to set her back against the wall. A pain radiated from her right leg, around where she kept her phone; the screen was probably shattered.

_-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-_

The wall shifted when Sophia set her back against it, which meant whatever had happened wrecked the school's structure. Sophia _really_ hoped the PRT were getting their asses in gear, too… stretching her right leg out – and accidentally kicking someone, who jerked away – Sophia went for her phone.

She touched something sticky and the pain redoubled.

_'FUCK!'_ had Shatterbird hit the Bay? Were the fucking _Nine_ in town?!

_-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-_

_'I need to get out!'_ but she couldn't see! And from the feel of things, the entire hallway around her was a panicked mass of bodies. Someone grabbed her left leg at the thigh; Sophia tried to kick them off, but her moves were uncoordinated. So were the movements of the person who grabbed her shoulder and steadied her.

Hair brushed into Sophia's face, lightly agitating the wounds there.

While that _really _pissed Sophia off, through the smell of smoke, burning electronics and blood filling the hallway she could make out the scent a familiar lilac shampoo. Their hands, the way the _girl_ was trying to hug her – but kept finding glass on her front, so they wrapped an arm around Sophia's back to keep her steady – their presence was familiar.

_Emma_. Sophia could _feel_ her screaming through the close contact.

_-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-_

Blindly, and trying her fucking _hardest_ not so sob in relief or mess with her injuries any further, Sophia grasped for her friend's hands. Emma seemed to get the picture, and let Sophia guide the redhead's hands to the pain on her leg with one hand, and one of the books she dropped when everything exploded. Pressure needed to be applied – Sophia could tell she was bleeding pretty badly – and Emma seemed to get the picture, given that she pulled Sophia's shorts down a little to make sure it wouldn't get worse.

It felt like Emma ripped part of her thigh off. The bleeding got worse. Sophia screamed as Emma put it back –

_-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-_

– and heard nothing. Saw nothing. Even if she went shadow, _she'd still be blind_. Still have a fucking _hole_ in her leg.

There wasn't any warning, just a brief pressure against her skull. Everything, even the keening in her head, stopped.

_And then she was floating in a sea of stars._

She came to coughing. There was… something. Had she gone into shock or something? Emma was worrying over her, rubbing her shoulders. Sophia could still feel her screaming; from how each was short, it might've been "HELP". Maybe. Sophia was still blind and deaf in a possible _S9_ attack.

The ground under Sophia shifted again, a vibration shaking the wall. Emma shifted and did something, still screaming.

Then Sophia felt a warmth against her face, and the pain went away right before she fell asleep.

Her last thought was, _'This is Hebert's fault, somehow…'_

**.**

**_Parahuman Response Team (PRT)  
East-North-East Headquarters (ENE HQ)_**

**Winslow Incident (WI): +10:12:22**

**.**

"Emily, Armsmaster," bit out PRT Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown, her face hard and serious on the conference room's monitor, surrounded by the images of other Directors, Dragon, and Armsmaster himself, who was broadcasting from his laptop, the man still on-site at Winslow, "You've had ten hours to investigate this event. What do we have?"

PRT ENE Director Emily Piggot was tired; she'd been running damage control and coordinating emergency services since noon, when her lunch was interrupted by an explosion that rattled her office window. An explosion in a _high school_. What a way to start the year…

Clearing her throat, Emily folded her hands and gave the PRT side of things; Armsmaster would follow with the gritty details once she was done, as they'd agreed, "The explosion occurred right as the lunch hour at Winslow was starting, so most students were caught in the halls or the cafeteria. Emergency first-responders and PRT personnel were dispatched once Velocity, who was on a morning patrol, arrived on-scene to find students with glass and auditory damage fleeing the building."

"Auditory damage?" asked a Director. The subtitle said Omaha.

Emily nodded, gesturing at her ears, "86% of the persons present in the school suffered ruptured eardrums, as you've all no-doubt heard," there were still news helicopters hovering near the school, though the PRT VTOLs were keeping them at a distance; it wasn't _quite_ the biggest national news story – it was Brockton Bay, after all – but quite a few vultures were still looking for a scoop, "Roughly 60% of the school's population, both faculty and student, were wounded by flying glass, ranging from minor cuts and scrapes to blindness from exploding windows and shrapnel gouging their legs when their cell phone screens burst. Luckily," and here Emily felt like she'd swallowed a lemon, "the total deaths from this catastrophe are low, given the amount of damage to the students and school itself; 34 students were pronounced DOA by paramedics responding to the scene, eight of whom fell down stairs. Ten were in the computer lab, though their teacher survived. Barely."

Nearly everyone on the monitors – the Chief Director not included – winced; Mrs. Knott, covered in blood, weeping on the news as she was led out of the school was being played _very_ often on nearly every news network. Emily sighed, cursed every Parahuman for making her life hell, and continued, "The chemistry teacher gave his life to keep an uncontrolled chemical reaction from worsening affairs, when every piece of glass in the lab shattered. The only reason he survived the initial event was his visit to the lavatory; his use of a fire extinguisher and blanket saved dozens of lives, though he perished from the fumes before anyone could reach him. Additionally, Principal Patricia Blackwell was on her computer when the explosion went off; she was found dead in her office, most of her face and neck torn apart."

"What the hell did this? _Who_ did this?" growled Director Tagg; more than a few mutters of equal shock and anger were had.

Whatever. Emily still had a report to get through before - hopefully - dinner and dialysis, and the Chief Director agreed, seeing as she spoke up, "We'll get to that in a moment, James. Now, Emily. How many are there?" There was no need to ask _how many what_; just about everyone at the highest levels in the PRT knew what Costa-Brown meant.

Emily took a deep breath, looked at her notes – she glared at the part that was _literally_ headache-inducing – and hissed through clenched teeth, "Five, due to the explosion. All of them Triggered simultaneously," someone swore impressively; Emily ignored them, even though she wanted to curse quite a few people until _their _ears bled, "We've secured them on the Rig and have informed their families discretely; most of them should join the Wards, but there are some complications our Legal team will have to work out for a few of them. For now, I'll go over their abilities," no one argued, so Emily got on with it.

"The first we confirmed was a Mover/Shaker who grants regeneration to those in their area of influence; it's primarily due to her actions so many students survived, though Panacea needed to remove glass from some of the victims, as the Shaker effect is _only_ regenerative and doesn't account for foreign objects. This new Trigger, who has been given the provisional designation Seraphim, also exhibits a minor Stranger effect that prevents anyone from getting a good description of their features. Additionally, their actions saved Shadow Stalker in her civilian identity," just saying that girl's name made Emily nauseous, knowing what the little bitch had done, "after Stalker was blinded and severely wounded from the trophy cases near the cafeteria exploding like a grenade; three of the nearby students were killed instantly, the rest were healed in the nick of time by Seraphim.

"Three others Triggered in the same area, the gym. One has manifested a sort of self-biokinesis that quickly turned him into a Brute. We're going with Browbeat for now; he assisted in exfiltration of the wounded. The second gym Trigger has a Blaster ability that erases matter, but only if she's holding an example of the material she wants to destroy, and she's Manton Limited; provisionary name is Extirpate. Last one is a Shaker/Striker who can reverse time, and used his ability to remove rubble after part of the gym collapsed; he still prevented the deaths of over 100 students and assisted in the glass removal once the evacuation was complete. He's insisting on Thanos, but I believe that name isn't allowed for copyright reasons. Each of them also seem to have a minor Thinker ability that allows them to coordinate their powers without vocal communication, which, as I understand, is common with cluster Triggers.

"Lastly," Emily blinked in confusion; _was_ there a fifth? She glanced at her notes, saw what she wrote, felt her headache worsen, and groaned, "is a Stranger with a Master-projection that takes the form of a large tiger, which forms from whatever non-living material she touches; it can be given extra limbs – in this event, octopus legs – is not limited to running on the ground, and is the reason wounded began appearing suddenly outside the school. She is not in full control of her Stranger ability, which makes people forget her existence, and seems to require physical contact with her projection to move it. The Stranger power doesn't affect CCTV surveillance, though anyone _watching _the monitors won't notice her. Both she and the projection are," Emily glanced at her notes again and rubbed her temple as the headache worsened, "at the Rig. On top of this, Legal is going to have a _very_ hard time sorting her situation; her father and brother have been given notice, and will collect her once we've established solid numbers and stabilize her power use. They both seem to be taking things well; her mother's been arrested, however. Though her mother has custody, when we went to inform and collect her, we found the woman in the middle of a drug-fueled orgy with several known unpowered members of the Archer's Bridge Merchants," several people suppressed snorts of disgust and disbelief before Emily – who was _quite_ disgusted herself – concluded her report.

"We've given this Master/Stranger the provisional name Tenebrae. All five will be hailed as heroes outside their civilian identities due to their actions today," she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, "and… personnel from Asylum East have been flown in; they're helping the new Triggers get used to their powers, under the direction of Doctor Jessica Yamada. The cause of the explosion, and the current state of Winslow High School, will be detailed by Armsmaster."

And she let out another tired sigh; Emily had only finished half her lunch when the roof was blown off the school, and she _still_ hadn't managed to get dinner. Oh, and she needed to go on dialysis soon; that offer from Panacea was starting to look _really_ tempting. Why couldn't she have a better command, one with less stress and constant messes? Salem never had to deal with shit like what came up regularly in Brockton Bay.

"Well, it seems everything's well in hand on the PRT side of things," stated the Chief Director icily, "With the exception of what I've heard about Shadow Stalker's… _hobbies_… this seems to be a win for us."

Emily winced. Fucking _Hess_. If it wasn't for the fact that the girl was almost certainly going to juvie, Emily would march right over to the rig and break the little bitch's legs, for dropping this latest mess in her lap.

Armsmaster cleared his throat, "If I may, Chief Director?"

The woman glared, "Unless it's to defend what Miss Hess did-"

"Hardly, ma'am," bit out the leader of the Bay's Protectorate, "She was told what would happen if she broke her parole, and did everything within her power to circumvent the restrictions we put in place. I will approve any punishment deemed necessary," the man paused, "Especially so, given that she is not only guilty of serial harassment, bio-terrorism, and grand theft-"

"I'm sorry, what?" queried Armstrong, looking confused. Emily understood his confusion; _she_ still didn't quite believe it when the Hebert house was searched, and Taylor Hebert's journal was examined.

"A heirloom flute," Emily shifted her notes around briefly, grimacing when she found it, "custom-made Howell silver flute, passed down from mother to daughter for three generations. After being healed, Madison Clements testified to police and PRT agents. She witnessed its destruction; going by her testimony, we located the flute's remains when we searched Hess' room," she looked Kamil in the eye, "They were wrapped in plastic and smeared with something black that smelled, quote, 'horrendous', and were hidden in the back of her closet. Forensics concluded grime taken from a grease trap."

"In addition to these crimes," went on Armsmaster mercilessly, ignoring the further expressions of disgust, "Sophia Hess is the prime suspect in forcing the Trigger event that caused the Winslow Explosion."

Now _that_, Emily hadn't known. And from the dead silence and shocked expressions of the gathered Directors – and Legend, whose expression was a rare mask of anger – none of them knew either.

"Explain, Armsmaster," groaned Costa-Brown, rubbing the bridge of her nose and muttering something that sounded like, "_…hear the end of this shit…_"

"Again, according to Madison Clements' testimony, and the testimony of eight other students, Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess collaborated in the attempted murder through bioterrorism of Taylor Hebert. They shoved her into a locker that was half-filled with used, fermented… feminine waste products," while this part was known, it still caused expressions of severe disgust in everyone present; even _Dragon_ looked a little peeved, "They then locked the door, mocked Ms. Hebert for being weak, and left her there. Post-cog analysis by Watchdog revealed Ms. Hebert Triggered after three hours' time; no one attempted to free her, and that section of the third floor was avoided by both students and faculty."

"And no one heard her screaming?" growled the Director of Phoenix, the man's knuckles white on his desk; a few other Directors looked fairly angry as well, "Or _smelled _that filth? Where the fuck was the janitor in that place?!"

"Our investigation of events has revealed," Armsmaster let out a stressed sigh, "that Emma Barnes was being given preferential treatment by the staff, and was extremely popular amongst the student population; additionally, Sophia Hess physically and verbally intimidated anyone who might seek to assist Ms. Hebert. At least half the school knew; of the fou-excuse me, _five_ new Triggers, only the gym Triggers knew of Ms. Hebert's dilemma. They'd met in the gym to discuss freeing her, when the explosion happened.

"Speaking of the explosion," the Tinker went on in a calmer tone, "I've investigated the remains of the locker and the surrounding area; the school itself has been scanned thoroughly. I, with the assistance of Watchdog's post-cog Thinker and Dragon, have come to the conclusion that the explosion was the product of an airburst due to inappropriate use of Tinker-tech on Ms. Hebert's part."

"Suicide?" asked Director Tagg, not looking totally convinced. Emily certainly wasn't.

Armsmaster shook his head negatively, "No. Going by Ms. Hebert's actions in the locker, detailed by Hindsight, I believe she intended to create a teleportation device out of her watch, bug shells and nerves, and one of the coat hooks inside the locker."

"Bio-Tinker?" this time it was Emily who spoke, voice hard.

"Again, no," admitted the Tinker, looking a little wistful, "I believe this was an act of desperation, given Ms. Hebert's expression of frantic determination described by Hindsight. The device used was constructed in one hour, and took five minutes to charge; one minute before the device activated, Ms. Hebert said something several times, like a chant, which Hindsight believes was 'Please work', while pointing her modified wristwatch at the locker's door.

"Thirty seconds later, an aura of unknown energy encased Ms. Hebert and most of the locker, before contracting to just above her skin; it is about this time the first students reported a high-pitched sound reverberating through Winslow. Whatever the energy was, it partially melted the locker and roasted the outside of her shoes, which were left behind; interestingly, this energy anomaly didn't damage the shoe interior, suggesting it was somewhat Manton-compliant. One second before the explosion, an event occurs where space bent into a singularity, a red light flashed, and Ms. Hebert disappeared while space smoothed out. The resulting airburst was not accompanied by any sort of explosive device; I theorize that, wherever Ms. Hebert ended up, her vehicle displaced a large amount of air from the destination in the process. Once I've examined the Trigger site in more detail, I may figure out why this happened, as most of my theories are based in speculation instead of hard fact. Dragon? Give them the scans you took."

Dragon spoke up, sounding aggrieved but professional, "I've used several Tinker-tech scanners to ascertain the condition of space in and around Winslow. The report has been emailed to all of you, but I'll give you the gist: whatever happened, it was like Vista's Shaker ability. Space was distorted and warped at the macro level _only_ at ground zero, the locker. Everywhere else was a combination of harmonic distortion due to sound waves and micro-vibrations along quantum Strings; we think this is why the glass shattered like did. Air pressure combined with these spacial anomalies destabilized the school's structure; some of it, at least, will need to be demolished."

Emily pretended to take notes while the Tinkers rambled on; she only understood the general idea of what they were talking about, and from the glazed look on some of the Director's faces, few understood the terminology. In reality, Director Piggot made a note to herself to research some of the words used. If Ms. Hebert ever returned, Emily needed to understand what her power effected, so there'd be contingencies and plans in place the _next time_ it happened. Because there was _always_ a next time, where Parahumans were concerned.

"So what you're saying is," Director Heathrow of Chicago ground out, sounding as exasperated and incredulous as Emily felt, "this girl is String Theory and Haywire _combined?!_"

"We don't know," admitted Armsmaster, not sounding happy about that at all, "Without knowing where Ms. Hebert ended up, we'll have more questions than answers. There is a possibility that she'll come back through the same point – the area of space around the locker is still fragile, in the same way Haywire portals leave traces – so I, and Alexandria, will remain on-site with the PRT squad and the members of New Wave still in attendance."

Speaking of which, "What are they still doing there, Armsmaster?" Emily asked, already looking forward to some painkillers and rest, "The last casualties were dealt with hours ago."

"Making sure none of the bio-waste in the locker is left behind," was the Tinker's icy reply, "The explosion scattered the stuff all over the hallways, and Panacea insisted on checking the air ducts just in case. It may take all night. I'm requesting permission to remain on-site until cleanup is completed; this will allow me to examine the explosion site it more detail, see if there's anything we missed on the first pass."

"Granted," said the Chief Director, still sounding _very_ angry, adding, "I don't care how long it takes, I want this mess cleaned up. I've seen the damage inside the building," no doubt due to Alexandria, Emily thought, who was Panacea's guard in case the school started to collapse, "Save what parts can be saved and have the mayor demolish the rest; I'll allocate the funds… somehow," the woman sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose again while swearing under her breath, but soldiered on, "On the PR side… Armsmaster, just to be clear, this wasn't an intentional attack?"

"No, Chief Director," replied the Tinker confidently, "I'm quite sure this whole event was unintentional on Ms. Hebert's part." Which put it lightly, in Emily's opinion. Despite much of the population wanting superpowers, _no one_, including just about every cape, wanted the Trigger event that came with those powers.

Costa-Brown nodded sharply, "In that case, we'll play up the bullying side of things, spin a story of how a case of attempted murder resulted in a young woman's desperate attempt to escape, which went awry when she didn't have the right materials to Tinker successfully. Keep her name out of the news, but step up patrols in every city, see if there's any… odd energy signs," the Chief Director moved her head, likely looking at all the faces in front of her, expression stern and serious, "Hopefully, she's still in the country, if not on Earth Bet. We don't know her Tinker specialization, but if she can do _this_, there's no telling what the CUI might do with her, or – god forbid – Gesellschaft. Dismissed."

Seconds later, only the Chief Director was in the room with Emily. The leader of the PRT was fixing her subordinate with the most displeased glare Emily had ever seen on the woman's face.

But she was ready with a response, for the unasked question, "Traumatized. We're keeping her at the Rig's infirmary, under heavy guard. Armsmaster is the only one with the key to the shock bracelet." No need to say anything about the probationary Ward's handler, who was sitting in the PRT lockup for dereliction of duty and acceptance of bribes; Alan Barnes, who'd testified for Hess' becoming a Ward, was facing perjury and corruption charges, and would, at the very least, be disbarred.

Costa-Brown nodded, but her expression didn't change, "We'll talk about this further in the morning. I expect Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and Triumph to attend, along with yourself. Get some sleep," and she was gone.

Emily Piggot slumped in her chair, exhaling explosively in stress, annoyance, anger – because she was _probably_ going to be fired, as the Wards were _her_ responsibility – and hunger, her stomach growling loudly in protest after no lunch or dinner as scheduled.

The blonde woman buried her aching head in her hands and muttered, "Fuck." It'd been such a nice day, too…

**.**

**_Winslow High School (temporary) Quarantine Zone_**

**Winslow Incident (WI): +11:37:09**

**.**

"Got any two's?"

"Go Fish," smirked Vicky, enjoying the annoyed face of the PRT Sergeant as he picked up a card and frowned; after plucking a queen off her Uncle Neil – in costume as Manpower – the blonde Breaker looked over at Ames' cot, one of many in the cafeteria-turned-PRT barracks. Her stepsister was still in her Panacea robes, frowning at the screen of her phone, scrolling through PHO probably, looking like she was going to pass out any minute; Vicky made a mental note to cover her with a blanket before going to sleep herself.

Above and behind Amy, near the cafeteria's exit – the blood in the hallway had been cleaned up hours ago, _thank god_ – Alexandria hovered, one hand on the side of her helmet, likely dealing with politicians who were worried about the explosion, or coordinating a _real_ heroic beatdown of some villains that got brave. Maybe they'd found the person who caused it? Vicky would ask, before turning in.

**.**

Rebecca kept her face neutral through long practice, subvocalizing into her radio, "What do you mean, _you have to wait?"_

Contessa's voice spoke over the sound of screaming children and pop music; a _movie theater lobby_, Rebecca's memory supplied, "The Path said to wait. Taylor Hebert will reveal herself, at which point the waiting will be over, and the time for action will begin," the sound of the woman sipping a fountain drink – 40-ounce, if memory served – made Rebecca's eye twitch, "So I Path-ed the best way to wait."

"Your power told you to go to the movies?" deadpanned Alexandria, not quite believing her ears.

"Not just the movies. There's a fantastic Mediterranean place nearby; the gyros are to die for," the sound of a quarter in a coinslot came through the near-indestructible cape's radio, "If you'll excuse me, I've got 15 minutes until the next showing. Path to the top of this arcade console's _Galaga_ leaderboard," Rebecca was made of the sternest stuff – literally – so she didn't react outwardly; inside, she facepalmed and screamed, "Text me when something happens, and I'll advise." The line went dead with the opening music of _Galaga_ and someone's child screaming for Milk Duds.

_'This job sometimes,'_ wondered Alexandria, sighing minutely and looking over the report her body double sent her.

**.**

It'd been a _long_ day. Mostly, though, Vicky was trying not to think about the carnage she'd seen, arriving at the school they were still inside of. Neither Glory Girl or Panacea had ever seen that much blood before, seen so many injured people; really, it was a good thing Vicky was so shocked, Aunt Sarah admitted later. With all the new Triggers running around, Vicky agreed with her Aunt's statement – _very _begrudgingly – that, if she'd been less shocked, she might've thought one of _them_ were the villains.

Not that anyone was telling Vicky what was going on, who'd done it, why, _anything!_ Even Ames wasn't allowed to talk about it – for the moment; they had to go home sometime, and Vicky had promised her favorite person in the whole world a whole chocolate cake for the deets.

Vicky just had to be patient, "Got any fives?"

"Damnit," the private tossed three cards to a smirking Vicky, "How are you so good at this?"

"She cheats," called Ames from across darkened – okay, so there were portable lamps, but the school was otherwise without power – cafeteria, a few of the sleeping forms grumbling at their rest being disturbed, "She's a cheating cheater who cheats at Go Fish all the time."

"Oh, I don't!" Vicky bantered right back with a smile, which grew when a small smirk appeared on Amy's face, "Everyone else is just not as good as me!"

Alexandria glanced over her shoulder, "She's been marking what you've all asked for and kept asking for the wrong things early on, so she'd be able to gather the right cards from the deck to win."

And just like that, Vicky was miffed, "Well, why don't _you_ come down and play, if you're so good at Go Fish?" a little risky, challenging Alexandria, but if she won… bragging rights _forever!_

The penultimate "flying brick" shook her head – but was that a _smile_ Vicky saw? – before turning away again, "Perhaps later. There's an evacuation in Costa Rica I have to coordinate." Vicky met Amy's gaze, the brunette rolling her eyes and mouthing 'coward' before going back to her phone. Good ol' Ames! She knew what was up.

"Okay, I'm tired of losing to you, GG," the Sergeant grumbled; even though he looked as old as her dad did, Vicky thought he was pretty good-looking. Not as good as Dean, though, "So let's play some Hold 'Em for a little while, until Alexandria's ready to play."

"Sounds good!" Vicky chirped, passing her cards to Manpower, who started shuffling, "Manpower's dealer!" No one argued. Vicky passed the time to pick up a bag of chips – from the broken vending machines, which thankfully weren't covered in blood – and listened to her uncle needling the PRT soldiers for information.

"So what _did_ happen up on the third floor?" before they could say 'classified' again, Uncle Neil went on in a faux-casual tone, "See, I heard some girl was shoved into her locker and Triggered." Wait, what?

"We really can't talk about the details, sir," the Sergeant insisted tiredly, but still went on, "Hell, _we_ don't know everything going on up there either. I tried asking one of the Watchdog folk about it, and they rambled something about strings and quantum doohickeys before I realized I shouldn't've asked."

That brought the mood back up, but Vicky still felt a little worried; all of _that_, all those kids getting cut up bad as a S9 attack – some people thought it was them, until the PRT and Dragon set them right – it was all because someone got their powers? And who Triggered from getting shoved in a locker? That didn't sound… okay, on the other hand, Ames was dealing with something regarding bio-waste, and _Alexandria_ was called in, so it _had_ to be pretty serious. Poor person, whoever they were.

But did they have to blow up the school? Three hands in, Vicky asked the Sergeant – his name tag said Gould – a question, "Do you think they meant it? The explosion and all that?"

The Private looked up from his hand and reached for the cooler full of sodas next to him, "Watchdog doesn't think so, and I heard Armsmaster saying they didn't mean to, uh…" he trailed off and covered his slip of the tongue by guzzling a cherry coke, though it looked like his superior was still going to say something.

He never got the chance.

_vvvvvvvweeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_

Vicky blinked and looked around at the high-pitched whine that cut through the room; Alexandria spun in place, Amy looked up from her phone, Manpower stiffened, and the PRT agents started waking up. Then the sound disappeared…

And then the wall across Vicky, near the fallen vending machines, rippled, like someone dropped a stone into a pool of water.

"Everyone up!" shouted the resident member of the Triumvirate, flying over next to Amy, who flailed her limbs while getting to her feet; Vicky tossed her cards to the table and started to rise into the air, ready for anything, the troopers around her scrambling for weapons and foam sprayers.

**_VWORP!_**

From the center of the ripples a hole appeared, expanding outward until it formed an oval window edged with gray-rainbow fractals; it was twice the size of the Dallon family's front door, and seemed to _bend_ the space around where it formed.

On the other side of the window was a huge room of white squares, some of them rising to hide some kind of large machine, and… a pretty brown-haired girl with a heart-shaped face in the _cutest _outfit, wearing a labcoat…

And pointing a futuristic-looking rifle at the PRT troopers with hardened eyes. Over a hundred machines, arrayed all over the walls, aimed targeting lasers at everyone on the other side, Vicky and Uncle Neil included. Some of them looked like they were armed with _rockets._

The PRT troopers took exception to that.

"DROP YOUR WEAPON!"

"HANDS UP! _NOW!_"

"PUT DOWN THE GUN!"

"ON THE GROUND, NOW!"

The brown-haired girl – who looked a little like Amy – didn't react to their orders, even when Vicky rose over them and glared at her menacingly; instead, the girl blinked, lowered her gun to aim at the ground, and waved over her shoulder, saying something that Vicky couldn't hear over all the conflicting orders. The machines' targeting lasers turned off, and the girl turned back to them, big brown eyes looking over them curiously, gun held across her torso, ready to defend herself, but not posing an immediate threat.

Not that Vicky cared much. Whoever the girl was, she'd just opened a… portal or something, into a restricted area, aimed weapons at them! The only reason Glory Girl didn't rush right in and wreck her was that Ames hadn't been in the line of sight. Vicky didn't stop glaring, though.

Then the girl shouted over the continuing orders of the troopers, voice sounding a _little_ tinny, "IS THIS EARTH BET?"

_'What?'_ and Vicky wasn't alone in her surprise, given that everyone else shut up and stared. No one answered right away, not until Alexandria swept over next to Vicky.

"It is," the strongest cape in the world said in steely voice, "Who are-"

A wall of grey appeared in front of the portal with an electronic _buzz_; a lot of the troopers jerked in surprise, but nothing else happened, other than the unknown girl in a labcoat letting out a huge sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank _goodness!_ We've been trying to reach you for _hours_," Vicky was getting _really_ confused; who the hell was this chick?!

"Who are you, and why are you contacting us?" wowza, Alexandria sounded _mad_. Vicky noticed the Sergeant saying something over his radio, "And what is that grey wall doing?"

The brown-haired girl grinned apologetically, "Heh, sorry. Just a precaution; we don't want anyone trying to hack into our systems or enter our facility without permission," she set her gun on the floor – and was that a _rainbow unicorn sticker_ on the gun's stock?! – and skipped closer to the portal, still smiling, "Don't touch the barrier, please; it'll disperse certain atomic molecules and disintegrate any material that touches it. Finally, hi! I'm Sammie," she gestured around herself, "and _this_ is Aperture Laboratories!"

A loud hum preceded _all three_ visible walls of the room Sammie was in _rising into the air_, revealing…

Vicky's jaw dropped at the _cityscape_ of cubes, covered in some kind of machines with blue lights, tubes and catwalks and large beams stretching out into a gloomy world. Glowing objects flew at breakneck speeds through the tubes, some of the huge cubes – which Vicky realized were _other rooms_ like the one they were looking at – were _moving_ along gigantic beams… and there were _more_ of the combat machines out there.

The blonde belle of New Wave blinked at the sight of what _looked_ like mechanical bunnies, hopping along some of the catwalks.

"As to why we're contacting you," everyone's attention returned to Sammie, whose smile was gone as she wrung her hands in worry, "We need your help. A Parahuman from your world ended up in a condemned part of the facility, and, due to quite a few issues beyond our control, we're having trouble rescuing her."

"Is her name Taylor Hebert?" Armsmaster was there, halberd in hand, troopers parting before him as he stomped toward the portal; Vicky noticed Ames trying to sneak forward behind him. The blonde gave her sis a glare and shook her head, not that it stopped the stubborn healer.

Sammie blinked and nodded happily, once Armsmaster came into view, "Yep!" She opened her mouth to go on, but…

"You're not breathing," observed Armsmaster, which sent a wave of tension through the troopers. And Vicky, who squinted… yeah, the cute girl _wasn't_ breathing.

She also looked annoyed, and replied stiffly, "This isn't about _me_, or Aperture. This is about rescuing Taylor from certain death."

"Are you human?" Alexandria's fists were clenched, her mouth set into a serious frown; Vicky didn't see why everyone was getting all bent outta shape. Sure, there was a lot of weird stuff going on, but someone was in danger!

"I _was_," a shiver ran down Vicky's spine at the _venom_ in that one word, "Six girls between the ages of 12 and 19, to be precise," and her icy brown eyes flicked over everyone. From Vicky's perspective, all the agents and capes – Uncle Neil stiffened and shifted at the admission – were horrified by the implications; Sammie's next words didn't help, "Now, I'm an AAI Core; my primary function is the maintenance and quality assurance of all products produced by Aperture. Secondary is ensuring the security and secrecy of this facility. Honestly, flying-tower-lady," Sammie grimaced, hands on her hips, while Vicky tried not to laugh at _Alexandria_ being called 'flying-tower-lady', "if it wasn't for the fact that Taylor's stuck down there with a rampant, homicidal AI throwing bio-weapons at her _and_ the fact that Taylor's got less than 20 hours to live before a bacterial infection drowns her in her own blood, we wouldn't be speaking at all."

Vicky wasn't the only one shocked speechless by Sammie's admissions, though the flying blonde thought she heard the Private from earlier muttering, "_The fuck's an AAI?_"

"Need help over there, Sammie?" called a _really handsome_ blonde guy, who peeked his head over the walls around the weird machine.

"Nah, I'm good Neil!" chirped the girl – robot? Android? Terminator-lite? – apparently happy as a clam again; then she clapped her hands and smiled at the assembled members of the PRT, Protectorate, and New Wave, who were all staring at her like she was an alien… which she _kind of _was.

"So, yeah, we need your help releasing a restriction our creators put in place to keep us from entering the condemned part of Aperture. Anyone interested in a job? There's cake in it for you!"

**.**

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**Yeah, not sure how I feel about this chapter. It reads good, the editing went well, but... I dunno, maybe it's just me.**

**Like I said, going to work on some Iron and Babel before coming back here. Bright side? It's a good stopping point, and it _shouldn't_ take three months before the next chapter.**

**Again, for more details on the fic's development, head on over to SpaceBattles, where this fanfic is also posted (and I am generally available to answer questions)!**

**Thanks for reading everyone!**

**Next time: "Equal Opportunity Employment", where people argue over stupid things, Alexandria does something sensible, and Panacea goes to (Aperture) heaven.**


	10. Chapter 10

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 10:**

**Equal Opportunity Employment**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Stunned didn't approach what Alexandria was feeling.

The 'girl' on the other side of the portal had all but admitted to being an Artificial Intelligence; what the extra 'A' meant was unclear, but… the rest of her admission – that she used to be _six_ different people – was more than stunning. It was alarming.

At the same time, Sammie did have tells – unless she was faking her emotional responses completely – and all of them were telling Alexandria that the cyborg was being honest and truthful. That the cyborg knew of Earth Bet, and seemed completely focused on rescuing Taylor Hebert, solidified Rebecca's estimation that the robot wasn't lying.

But there were still many unknowns. _Too_ many unknowns. Earth Bet couldn't afford a repeat of the Machine Army. By all accounts, the city-sized facility on the other side of the portal _might_ be a new threat; physical, digital, likely both. Too many plans could be dashed by Aperture's interference…

And yet…

Armsmaster and Dragon both wanted Taylor Hebert returned. Alexandria could see the reasoning; the girl, freshly Triggered, managed to replicate Haywire's work without any fine tools, research, or sophisticated technology. Taylor Hebert could become one of the greatest Tinkers to ever live, with time and conditioning. The ramifications of her causing five other Triggers and nearly 40 fatalities could be addressed and smoothed over on the PR front, though getting her accepted by the current and future Wards in the ENE would be very difficult; doable, but still difficult.

Which brought everything back around to Aperture – and Contessa just sent Alexandria a text.

**.**

_Steps:  
Be polite, ask questions, listen to and consider ramifications of answers, allow ENE Director to voice objections  
Panacea would be best for Affiliate contract, insist on yourself as recovery assistance; follow directions, do not question or hesitate  
Hebert cannot be a Ward initially; too restrictive, bad for morale. Allow recovery and debrief at AP facility, back off after negotiations (see below)_

_Once recovery is complete:  
negotiate assistance between AP(Hebert)-Wards/PRT, insist on Hebert commuting between home, school, and AP; place AP access in Wards base; allow Hebert to construct travel methods (critical), leave vetting of Wards/Protectorate/PRT/Independent access to AP personnel (Hebert, AAI; critical) and ENE Director  
In exchange,  
AP cannot be easily breached by EBs, outside elements; bargain for alternative to Cage (critical) and EB evacuation assistance (think with portals)_

_Further negotiations take place through official channels; __DO NOT LET WASHINGTON INTERFERE__, keep AP classified info secret (C __only__)_

_Wards/Hebert joint patrols after public situation/Wards friction is settled_

_Hebert joins Protectorate: odds of survival increase  
Hebert is ostracized/becomes a villain: odds of survival decrease  
Hebert is killed: NO_

_Complete all appropriate steps, eat a bagel and say, "All according to keikaku."_

**.**

Well… that simplified things, though Alexandria would have to have a chat with Contessa, once everything was said and done.

Before anyone could recover from Sammie's info drop, Alexandria moved forward, "You'll have to give us a little more information than that." Her tone was questioning, but still firm, "We've had issues with AI before, so I hope you understand our suspicions regarding this whole situation."

"Oh, yeah, of course!" nodded the cyborg, who then squinted at Alexandria, "Uh, who are you now?"

"Alexandria." She didn't elaborate, wondering how much Hebert had told the machine.

"Ah, so _you're_ the indestructible one," Sammie gave a sheepish grin, "Sorry about calling you that, earlier." When Alexandria didn't reply beyond folding her arms, the cyborg's lips pursed, "Right. So! What do you want to know?"

"We'll start with AAI," the seeming girl flinched, "What does that mean, beyond Artificial Intelligence?"

"_Actuating_ Artificial Intelligence; we're basically genetically-enhanced operating systems that can learn and act, usually within parameters set by the… _people_… who made us," Alexandria noted the heavy sarcasm laid on 'people', "We also have aspirations, emotions, and individual personalities, hence our designation as 'Personality' Cores." Sammie smiled at the last. It was an honest smile.

"And the people who made you?" Armsmaster asked; Alexandria gave his cape name to Sammie, whose face had gone flat, her eyes cold, and her response was… _chilling_ in its toneless certainty, as though the question was one she'd thought on and long prepared an answer for.

"Imagine a group of scientists who don't care about OSHA, the Geneva Convention, or civil rights. Now give them all the compassion of a Nazi concentration camp overseer and the cold sadism of a Spanish Inquisitor in a Wiccan village, along with a general disregard for laboratory safety and the historic discoveries that have advanced mankind."

Alexandria was disturbed by that coldly delivered response, mainly because that sounded a _little_ like how Cauldron operated…

Then Sammie smiled brightly, her tone bubbly and cheerful, "Or are you wondering where they are? Don't worry! They're all dead."

Rebecca reminded herself to _be polite_ and not agitate the cyborgs who could poke holes between worlds, possibly without Tinker-tech; their creators were dead. That was a good thing, from _their_ perspective. Later, she would insist on more information, but for the moment...

"Fair enough." Alexandria stated, getting incredulous glances from quite a few of the audience members; she ignored them, "We'll have to ask for more elaboration on your origins and person later. For now: what's the overall situation? What is Aperture, and where precisely _is_ Taylor Hebert?"

"And what's this about her drowning in her own blood?" Panacea spoke up, shoving a trooper aside; it took about thirty seconds – most of which involved shutting Glory Girl up – before the 'healer' introduced herself, "Panacea. I'm a touch-based biokinetic; if I touch someone, not only can I see their whole biology, I can manipulate it, though I can't effect brains."

"Awesome!" and Sammie looked like she meant it; then she tilted her head to one side _very_ briefly, then smiled wider, "The facility administrator says you're the best candidate for becoming an Affiliate, but first, given our time constraints, I'll answer Alexandria's question… with a brief tour!"

The cyborg tapped her boot twice against the floor before folding her hands in front of her skirt; a wide panel lifted off the ground next to Sammie, on which a projection began to play: a black cube on a white field, which then expanded in ever-more complex lines and grids, until thousands of tiny cubes and other, regular structures formed a large square.

"This is the upper, and more modern, facility," Sammie explained as the square became deeper, forming a sort of shoebox-shape; if it was to scale, Alexandria figured it was the height and breadth of a major city, which was _very_ impressive. Armsmaster apparently realized this as well, if his stiffening form and agitated muttering said anything. "It's where all of Aperture's inventions are designed, built, tested, and refined, as well as where all living personnel would live, if we ever get around to hiring anyone. This projection isn't accurate, by the way; security protocols prevent me from showing you exact positions of Test Chambers and other structures. If you're an Affiliate, or a Temporary Contractor, you'll get some security clearance.

"Anyway," she went on, gesturing at the projection, which… revealed _another_ structure, underneath the city-sized modern facility. Whereas the modern Aperture was orderly, this new structure was chaotic, obviously in disrepair, and not fully mapped; from the looks of things, it was made of nine shafts, interconnected by what looked like offices and warehouses. All nine shafts and their structures were clearly buried deep within the Earth's crust. Red dots, thousands of them, were highlighted, moving around the shafts, and a purple circle was highlighted, which most of the red objects were slowly orbiting.

Sammie's voice became hard as she went on, "_This_, on the other hand, is Old Aperture, which was constructed back in the late 1940s and early 50s; near as we can figure, it was shut down in 1985 and all records regarding it were redacted or intentionally corrupted. Until Taylor arrived and tripped Aperture's dimensional-anchor defenses, we didn't even know it was there." A purple line ran from the bottom of one of the shafts to the purple circle, "She appeared in the deepest part of the shafts, in the HVAC/Support Structure that keeps Old Aperture – and modern Aperture's power sources, I'm told – from overheating due to the mantle's proximity.

"Part of reason Taylor's in so much danger is the conditions of these shafts: Old Aperture's scientists disregarded all forms of safety and waste disposal in favor of focusing their efforts on whatever the, honestly, _completely _insane CEO of the time wanted them to look into. From what we've found, he was looking for a way to become immortal," Sammie rolled her eyes and scoffed, "going so far as to preform dangerous human experimentation in trying to find the Philosopher's Stone, with absolutely no regard for the safety of the test subjects. For example: in one case, he had the scientists invent a laser that turned people's blood to gasoline; in another, similar, case, peanut water."

Alexandria thought she'd seen and heard everything, since drinking the Cauldron vial. Now, however, she was just one of many people staring in open-mouthed shock at the cyborg who was telling them these _positively insane_ things with all the emotion of a Disney exec pitching their next children's movie.

It was unnerving. And actually fairly interesting. No doubt there was much Aperture – the one of the present, rather than the obviously insane past – could teach Earth Bet's scientists, regarding innovation.

But Sammie was still talking, revealing just how horrible a situation Taylor Hebert ended up in, "To make matters worse, the entirety of Old Aperture can be described as a biohazardous space unfit for human habitation. The air is toxic. There's pockets of radioactivity. All the water is highly polluted to the point of being corrosive. Some of the structures are made almost entirely of asbestos. There are bacterial fungi that've evolved to survive those extreme conditions – some of which are in Taylor's lungs, and therefore her bloodstream," Panacea made a noise of distress, "Several of the substances stored down there can kill or seriously harm just from being in close proximity to them. Finally, see all the red icons? Those are bio-weapon experiments that were hibernating in enclosed spaces, which avoided the condemnation and vitrification of Old Aperture in 1985."

"Bio-weapons?" gritted Armsmaster, sounding both angry and very alarmed; Alexandria didn't blame him. The way Sammie described it, Taylor Hebert was in a place that made Ellisburg look like Cedar Point.

"I got two words for you, Armsie my friend," Sammie glared at her audience, "Mantis men."

Somebody swore. Loudly. Director Piggot was calling Alexandria; she ignored the call, not wanting to hear the fat bitch rant and rave about how the portal should be closed and damn what anyone thought.

Over multiple protestations, Alexandria shouted, "And Taylor Hebert is surviving all of this?"

Sammie nodded with determination, though she still looked grim, "Yep! First thing she made was a rebreather mask; she's also got a rappel device, a Tesla-powered positron catapult," Armsmaster made another sound, "and a few other gadgets and gizmos that are helping her move forward… _but_," and now the cyborg looked _very_ cross indeed, "due to circumstances outside our, her, and, apparently, _your_ control – namely Taylor getting shoved into a _different_ biohazard on _your_ world and left to rot – the dimensional shift that occurred when Taylor arrived released a rampant, homicidal, mentally-hazardous AI we were keeping in high-level containment, mostly because we haven't found a way to permanently neutralize it yet; while the upper facility has defenses against the AI getting loose, our power was out for several seconds, and Old Aperture doesn't have anything that can keep it out. It's been terrorizing Taylor for the past three hours, trying to make her desperate enough to create a neural implant so it can puppet her body; she's been fighting back, but her health has deteriorated significantly as a result of it throwing bio-weapons at her, and my supervisor believes that it's going to stop waiting for her to do it and," Sammie shuddered, a look of visceral dread appearing on her face, "_force_ the issue. At which point, we'd have no choice but to fry Taylor's brain from a distance and re-contain the rampant AI through attrition.

"Obviously, we don't want that to happen; Taylor's a very sweet girl who didn't ask for her situation. We empathize with that. However, in order to get to her, we need to remove a restriction our sadist creators placed on us to keep us from accessing those shafts; ordinarily, we'd just vote, but we don't have enough valid personnel for the required 7 votes to release the restriction. Which is why we've come to you. Please," she bowed. Actually _bowed_, her tone pleading, "I know we seem scary, that _Aperture_ seems frightening, but we just want to help Taylor get home, preferably in good health and without that virus. We need your help."

"The rampant one can't escape to our world?" asked Alexandria, her tone iron; Sammie shook her head negatively. "If it attacks your facility, your defenses will stop it, even if this barrier," she indicated the gray screen, "falls?" The Cyborg nodded. "Will our technology be infected if we go onto your side of the portal?"

"No." Sammie shook her head again, confidence etching every inch of her features, even as the creeping red drew closer to the purple circle, "My supervisor's faced this thing before. The AI that's down there is only the first proof of AAI, a Ford Model T, if you will. I'm the _Enterprise_ from Star Trek – um, you guys have-oh, good. I'll assume Star Wars is a thing too?" After Alexandria's second nod, Sammie smirked, "Our facility admin is the Death Star."

"Then what's the issue?" was Armsmaster's understandable question; in the corner of Alexandria's vision, she noticed one of the PRT troopers – one of Rebecca's plants in the ENE – indicating that Piggot was about to interfere, "If you're more powerful than it-"

"One on one, we win. The problem is that this thing uses swarm tactics, was _designed_ to be capable of accessing any computer – firewalls only slow it down, as it sends its viral code in burst assaults over macro and quantum wavelengths; the only way to stop its advance is area denial – and… well," she rubbed the side of her head and grimaced, "once it's in a system, it hijacks processors to bypass OS security so it can increase its own power. Doesn't matter if it's a digital wristwatch or a supercomputer. If it has a microchip or a processor, the AI can and _will_ infect it. It even infected Taylor's OS, which _we_ can't completely understand… yet."

That settled it. Alexandria understood the implications of the rampant AI getting free, or accessing Taylor Hebert's Tinker powers. Without Tinker-tech, the rampant AI was an S-Class threat on par with an Endbringer; if it got onto the Internet, they might never be able to contain it again, and that was assuming civilization survived whatever damage it caused.

_With_ Tinker-tech, and the admission that it could puppet people who possessed neural implants… Bonesaw and Mannequin came to mind, as did what might happen if the AI used either – or _both_, god forbid – as a living host. Alexandria did _not_ want to find out what might happen, if the _thing_ got its hooks in Hebert and escaped Aperture to Earth Bet.

"I volunteer."

Alexandria's head whipped around to stare at Panacea, who'd stepped forward.

While Alexandria didn't have a problem with that – she was planning on asking about the Contractor position, as that would prevent any conflicts of interest with the Protectorate, and this outcome was in line with Contessa's Path – others decided to voice their protests.

"Ames, no! They cut people's heads open and-"

"Panacea, a Tinker would be better suited-"

"Amy, I promised Carol I wouldn't let you out of my-"

"_Enough._" Alexandria's voice cut through the din once more; she didn't take her eyes off Panacea, who hadn't looked away from the portal. After three seconds – where Rebecca thought, yes, Amelia Lavere was made of the sternest, prickliest stuff – Armsmaster tried speaking up.

"Ma'am, I really must protes-"

"Submit your grievances to my offices, _after _this crisis is contained and resolved. Because I approve of this move," Panacea looked at her in surprise, and Alexandria elaborated, "I don't know how advanced the medical facilities at Aperture are, and while I'm certain they're very robust, they've never dealt with Parahuman biology before. Additionally, Taylor Hebert's situation is extremely dire, enough that if anyone attempted to prosecute her for today's events, I dare say her ordeal may be used as an example of time served, provided she survives. Her powers are both extremely useful, and present a frightful security risk; if this rampant AAI gets ahold of her and replicates her dimensional teleporter, it might result in a fourth Endbringer. I will _not_ allow that to happen. Therefore, Panacea, with Manpower as a chaperone, will ensure she _does_ survive her rescue, with all that entails."

Once the valuable healer nodded slowly, and Manpower stepped up to the girl's side, Alexandria turned to look at Sammie.

"Also, once your restrictions have fallen, I will be assisting in the rescue personally as a Temporary Contractor, if that's agreeable?"

Sammie looked about to happily agree, when Director Piggot's tired voice came out of one of the trooper's suit speakers.

_"Representative… Sammie. I am Director Emily Piggot, leader of the PRT-ENE. What guarantee do we have of your intentions?"_ the seeming-girl looked offended, but Piggot – who Alexandria only kept from cursing out aloud due to the Path she was presented – kept going, _"You see, Alexandria has understated the issues AI have presented to our world."_

It sounded like she would have continued.

"I'm not cleared to negotiate or speak with leadership personnel." Stated the AAI flatly, "My supervisor, however, is. She will address your concerns in one second."

A female voice, calm and authoritative in ways that impressed even Alexandria, spoke up; it seemed to come from everywhere on the other side of the portal.

"Director Piggot, I am Aperture Chief Administrator Gladys Emerson. I am extremely busy, so I won't bother mincing words. If you cannot differentiate between a threat and a potential ally, _ma'am_, then I won't waste precious time changing your mind. I honestly don't care about your individual opinion; my current task is the preservation of this facility, and Taylor's rescue. I don't care for your organization's secrets. I don't care for your dirty laundry; there is enough below me to keep half my processes busy for the next _decade_, at _least_. What I care about is Taylor's future, and that of both our worlds, which we _won't have_ if she is not rescued. I will assume you've been apprised of the overall situation, and the elements involved. Knowing these things, do you intend to impede this operation?" silence, tinged with what Alexandria felt was annoyance, followed the declaration; then Emerson spoke again, with annoyance, "Then shut up and let us do our jobs. Alexandria, Panacea, Manpower, please approach the portal. The Selective-Wavelength Emancipation Grill will de-activate shortly, and re-engage after ten seconds. Please do not tarry, as we have a _lot_ of paperwork to get through."

**.**

**_Aperture  
Laboratories_**

**.**

"…and initial _there_."

Amy's hand was starting to cramp from filling out certain parts of the _phonebook_-sized contract Sammie the AAI gave her; after initialing and turning a page – _more_ triplicate – the freckled brunette huffed, "Is all this _really_ necessary?"

"Sorry," Sammie even sounded like she was, "but, as we told you earlier, we're at a heightened security level, so you have to fill out most of it before you can go to the infirmary."

And Panacea really couldn't wait to see it in person. Some of the screens in the "chamber lock" showed whole vats of protein-based nanomachines, surgical lasers, muscle and bone synthesizers, even _organ cloners!_

If Amy had access to this place, especially during Endbringer fights… the possibilities were _endless!_ So many people would be saved! Compared to spitting carpal tunnel in the eye and saving one Tinker's life, or having to suffer through _another_ nightmarish battle against those monsters, Amy's decision was a no-brainer.

Two pages later, Amy stared at the signing bonuses: thirty pounds of gold bullion, access to the Biological and Agricultural Wings of the facility – Amy felt giddy just thinking about it – a free Level 1 trial in the 'Enrichment Center', whatever that was, and…

"Wait, really? There's _really_ cake involved?" she looked at Sammie…

Who was giving her the most _serious_ look Amy had ever seen; even Alexandria, who was nearly done with her own contract, reeled back a little at Sammie's look of complete unamusement.

"That cake, Panacea, took thirty years to develop. It is _scientifically_ the most delicious confection ever devised by humanity, with a 99.9% approval rate amongst taste-testers, some of whom didn't like chocolate. All allergens have been removed, so it's safe for 100% of humanity to consume." the seeming-girl leaned closer and hissed, "_People __**died**__ to create this cake, Panacea_. You should feel _extremely_ honored to receive one, as we usually only give them out after someone completes an Enrichment Center Testing Track."

After blinking, Amy Dallon squinted at Sammie, "In that case, I want _two_ cakes." Victoria owed her one, so _this_ way, her sister would owe Amy _more_ cakes. Teach her to cheat at Go Fish.

"Deal." Sammie's finger _split open_, revealing several small devices; the robot then did something to the paper, and the number of cakes was 2, "Only four pages left. Please hurry." Amy hurried.

"I'm curious about the portal technology your facility has developed," commented Alexandria, who seemed to be done with her contract. "Other than the economic and disaster relief applications, I speak for the Protectorate when I say we are prepared to _generously_ reimburse Aperture for samples of this technology."

Instead of Sammie, Dr. Emerson spoke up, "Once this operation has concluded, I will provide you with a list of Aperture Science innovations for your superiors in government. Please understand," continued the facility's supervisor, "that we at Aperture cannot recognize the authority of any government body that has not provided us with their official credentials. I literally cannot make any promises to your Protectorate."

"Jeez, your creators really didn't want you living your own life, huh?" grumbled Amy, signing and dating the last page of the contract. After pausing and thinking for a second, she added, "Which is kind of weird. They were looking for immortality, right? Why go through all that trouble, and _not_ give you all free… will…?" Amy trailed off and leaned closer to Manpower with a gulp, because Sammie was glaring at her, "What?"

"What part of _idiotic sadists _did you not get?" huffed the AAI, snatching both contracts away and stomping toward a chute that opened in one of the chamber walls, muttering quietly to herself. Alexandria even gave Amy a disappointed headshake.

Sighing, Panacea looked around at the chamber, hoping her small faux pas wouldn't get her banned from Aperture. It was a really amazing place; there were _no_ microbes floating around; the air was clean; and the _technology_ in the place… it made the Rig look like a slum!

"**CONTRACTS ACCEPTED.**" A different, male, voice thundered all around them; Sammie had told Amy and the other capes that the Security Core would likely make an announcement, so no one flinched, "**ADDING PERSONNEL TO APERTURE ROSTER: AFFILIATE AMELIA DALLON, ALIAS PANACEA, AND TEMPORARY SECURITY AGENT "ALEXANDRIA". ADDITIONS COMPLETE. PRIMARY SECURITY CORE ADVISES IMMEDIATE RESOLUTION OF PROTOCOL RED.**"

"Agreed, and thank you, AEGIS." Soothed the voice of Doctor Emerson while Amy stood from her chair and Alexandria floated up; then one of the walls folded away, revealing the confusion maze of Aperture, "Alexandria, I have just uploaded a waypoint map to your helmet. I've also taken the liberty of improving the computer's security and added it, and your costume, to the list of approved Aperture materials. Please follow the waypoints and accept the patches Wheatley gives you for your helmet, costume and other clothing accessories, as the Emancipation Grills in the shaft require both physical and digital confirmation. Panacea, Manpower," the airlock door opened to Amy's right, "please proceed to the chamber lock. A lift will bring you to the medical wing. Sammie, please go with them."

As the member of the Triumvirate nodded to Amy and flew off, Sammie scowled and did as she was asked, leading Amy and Uncle Neil into a short hallway, where a clear tube held a round elevator. On the walls around the lift were animations of what must've been Aperture inventions: a laser that used portals to go to different places, a high-yield catapult, some kind of egg-shaped 'security turret' that came in all sorts of colors, what looked like a hard-light generator and…

DNA and RNA were unraveled, scanned, and entered into a computer; a selection was made, and a vat filled with liquid. Robot arms then quickly built a human heart and placed it in a storage jar… which was then put in a cardboard box and tossed onto a shelf.

Amy blinked; she'd been sold until that last part. Staring at the animation with a confused face, she then looked at Sammie and pointed, "Uh…"

The AAI winced, "Yeah, we didn't make the animations. Could you hurry please?" Oh.

As the elevator descended, Amy heard someone with a gruff voice say, "Mum, the crow looks like it's gonna start soon."

"I see that, Rodney. Panacea," this was it, Amy felt. Someone's life was in her hands. She hoped doing what she was about to do wouldn't help the AI people destroy Earth Bet or something, "Protocol Red is in effect. An unaffiliated member of the human race is in the facility, and is in danger. Core restriction YYYIL-374985/vQs3D, Clause 2 is preventing Aperture elements from recovering them-"

Sammie jerked suddenly, "Taylor's on the move! Mum, quick!"

_'What?'_ thought Amy in shock; wasn't the girl dying?! Why was she still moving?

"-votes-are-at-6-for, none-against, and-2-abstaining." Emerson rattled off quickly, sounding both determined and anxious, "Affiliate-Dallon, please-cast-your-vote-NOW!"

"YES!" shouted Amy, "Drop the restriction!" the elevator arrived at another 'chamber lock'. The door was only open for a second before Sammie darted out, pulling Amy with her; a second later, Manpower picked both girls up and ran for the airlock, which opened to reveal the same medical apparatus Amy had been shown half an hour ago.

A loud tone rang out, followed by a carefree voice, "Protocol Red vote, resolved! Seven votes have been tallied! All 'for'! Accessing Core restriction YYYIL-374985/vQs3D, Clause 2…"

Sammie stiffened, the light in the middle of her outfit's bow flaring with yellow light.

At the same time, one of the panels lit up with vital signs; looking at it, Amy saw the name on the subject – Hebert, Taylor – and blanched at the readings.

_'She shouldn't be able to __**stand**__, let alone keep moving!'_ the fever, her blood pressure, the spread of that infection…

"Restriction suspended indefinitely!"

"WHEATLEY, GET THAT FUCKING DOOR OPEN!" screamed Doctor Emerson; not even one second later, a floor-shaking _boom_ came from far below Amy…

Who tore her robes off, not tearing her eyes away from Hebert's monitor, "These readings are accurate?" Sammie nodded, and Amy nodded back, "I'll need 10 kilos of those protein-based nanomachines, to _start with_. When she gets here, I need you to give me as much skin contact as you can-"

"**MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM ANOMALUS HUMAN SUBJECT, DESIGNATED "TAYLOR HEBERT.**" The voice of AEGIS rang out once more, cutting Amy off, while more explosions echoed from the deep, "**SCANNING… NO CORRUPTION DETECTED. PLAYING MESSAGE.**"

"Taylor?" Sammie's voice was worried in a way that Amy usually likened to loved ones who were given the bad news.

Then a raspy, hoarse voice, sounding more like something out of a horror movie than anything human, whispered through Aperture.

_"Doctor… I can kill it. *khaff-khaff* Please… trust me… when it happens… don't interfere *khaff-khaff*… Sammie?"_

The AAI next to Amy gasped.

_"…I know what you are… and I don't hate you. You're the first friend… I've had in _years_… so if you can't fix me…" _

"No, Taylor, no, no, no," Amy didn't know what'd happened in this place before the portal opened, but what she _did _know made Taylor Hebert's next words _really _terrifying.

"_…make sure I go on."_

"**MESSAGE ENDS.**" AEGIS growled, the words almost drowning out Sammie's scream of despair.

Well, Amy was having _none of it!_

"SAMMIE, FOCUS!" yelled the healer, getting the AAI's – _really furious-seeming_ – attention; Amy bore it from years of putting up with Victoria and said, "It _won't come to that_. It's not in her brain. So long as you can get her to me before that happens," a louder _bang_, followed by a grinding sound and _gunfire_, erupted from below, "you won't have to do… _that_, to your friend."

That seemed to calm the robo-girl down, so Panacea turned to her uncle, "Wait outside. Best you not be in the room when she gets here, you might get infected with something…" she turned back to Sammie, "Speaking of which, how are-?"

_Vworp~!_

An orange oval of… dear god, her eyes were _itching_. Luckily, a vat of tapioca-looking liquid chose that moment to rise from the floor; MEDICAL NANITES was printed on the side.

"Let _us_ worry about rescuing Taylor." Sammie smirked darkly, "You've got your own work to do."

Seconds later, after plunging her hand into the vat of nanites, Amy came to a decision.

_'Once all this is over,'_ thought Panacea with a wide grin, eyes dialated in happiness, _'I'm keeping both the cakes.'_

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Next time: Termination**


	11. Chapter 11

**Last action-y chapter of the arc. Thanks for sticking around!**

**On with the show!**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 11:  
Termination**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_C:/run:  
Processing…  
ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL  
Reactor: 93% integrity, ACTIVE  
Mask: GREEN_15hrs to next FLTR  
COMM_ARRAY: ACTIVE; NO SECURITY  
OS: 12 security arrays ACTIVE  
SNS_DRN: RUNNING; GREEN; pumps: 99% integrity  
ARM: all systems GREEN and SECURE  
TURRET: ready; 91.2% integrity  
GREN_CNT: 4  
MINE_CNT: 6  
FRDM: READY and SECURE_

_ACTIVATING HUD_

**.**

My view changes from the dark grey of startup, rippling with color and resolving into the mural of GLaDOS and the Cores. The sinus drain whirrs and my vision becomes less blurry with tears. There's still black spots drifting around, and the edges of my vision are an alarming red from fever. My body feels like it's made of hot coals, and just as brittle. My chest is a burning cage. Every breath is a death rattle.

But I'm still standing.

Even better… I'm ready.

The message for the upper facility, for Sammie and Dr. Emerson, is ready to be sent. I managed to write a short letter to Dad, just in case… I slipped, or made a misstep on my way to the next area. The Device is ready; just the thought of what it does makes a chill creep down my spine. Not because of what it does, but what it's _going to do _to that fucking crow.

_"Do you think you're a good person?"_

_"Better… than… you."_

At the time, without realizing it, I gave Osiris agency as a person. I can't make that mistake again. It isn't a person. It's just… a code. A program the Aperture scientists played with until it became… this _thing_. A spiteful, hateful creature of pure greed and loathing, lusting for something it can't comprehend.

_It isn't like them_.

Sammie, Wheatley, Benson, Moses, Rodney, and Dr. Emerson… they are _not_ like Osiris. But they fear it, because of what it does: infects other computers and makes them a part of itself, fueling its despicable existence.

I don't blame them for being afraid. I don't blame them for not telling me. My words to Sammie are the whole truth; I don't hate them. I don't hate her, for not wanting to risk herself against this monster. And even if it costs me my life… well… my day has already been pretty shitty. What's one more scoop on the pile?

At least Osiris will be gone.

Turning, I look, one last time, at the body of Dr. Rattmann. There were a few tools in his labcoat that I used to make my own tools better, fine-tuning and then incorporating the Aperture tech into my equipment. My reactor's much more efficient; my Taser and rappel are faster and more durable; the two surgical tubes running up my nostrils are keeping my sinuses from being overwhelmed, with only mild discomfort.

I'm ready. And so is my equipment.

Lighted buttons, metal disks, and four small orbs line the securing straps around my torso. A band of blue light marks the equator of my Arc Turret's head. On the right side of my head is a small camera, recording everything I see – just in case Dr. Emerson can't get it off the portal gun.

The only thing I haven't dismantled is the Alpha pump switch, which Rattmann is laying against, and the radio, which I've placed next to the hand holding an empty pill bottle. It's still off, but I managed to pull the song from its CPU, placed in a compressed folder with a recording of Rattmann's last note. The real copy is tucked into my jumpsuit, over my heart.

Without him, without this man's sacrifice… I doubt I'd be able to go on.

Instead, I'm ready, in every sense of the word.

Gripping the portal gun tighter, I nod once in thanks to the dead man, but I don't speak; I need every breath, every atom, every _electron_ of energy left in me, to see this to the end. _Osiris'_ end.

And I walk away. On the catwalk... can't go back the way I came. Open area up and to the left, leading to another catwalk above my head. Good a path as any.

I put one boot on the railing and push myself up; before I can fall, my rappel gun snags the ceiling in the next room. My boots go _clack_ on the curling linoleum.

One foot in front of the other, I walk down the catwalk, Emma's mocking words in my ears, old bruises from Sophia ghosting over my skin. Wasn't there another girl? Matilda or something?

It all seems so… trivial, insignificant, compared to Osiris and Old Aperture.

Too soon, the exit is in front of me. I look at a nearby poster, showing a cartoonish robot doing paperwork.

**Remember…**

**ROBOTS DON'T SLEEP**

**They can test AND do your job**

**VOLUNTEER FOR TESTING TODAY**

…I hate this place so much.

_'Hopefully the upper facility is more sane.'_ It should be; even if Dr. Emerson is some kind of huge computer, at least she isn't so blithely callous.

Breathe in – cough, ow – and walk forwards.

The shaft is just as destroyed as when I last saw it. To my right and about twenty meters above me, the next – and hopefully last – Science Sphere. Below me, creatures of Osiris' calling are coming out of more doors in the shaft wall, or have tunneled up from under the debris, which has large holes in places from where it settled, on the 1970s cliff and the Sphere below it. A few of those things look like mantis men.

"Welcome back, Taylor Hebert…ah." Osiris' stupid voice crackles out of my headphones and a nearby speaker. "You've been busy, I see."

A small map appears, showing Osiris' corruption slowly penetrating the first of twelve firewalls. I pluck one of the spheres from my belt and press the button. A flicker, in the corner of my vision, shows my message being sent.

"No last words? No final speech of defiance?" the blasted thing ripples into existence, now the size of a turkey vulture, glaring with its beady red eyes, "How disappointing…"

_Boom_.

The ground shakes in the wake of a loud explosion, one that came from far above me. The fire in my chest flares.

_They're coming_.

"Ah." Osiris doesn't sound worried. It should be. "It seems we're about to be inter… upted?"

It stops. Because I'm giving it the finger. Flipping the bird to the bird.

I still say nothing. All I've needed to say has been said.

They're coming. That means the Crow will stop holding back soon. Good.

_I wasn't planning holding back in the first place._

Before it can respond with anything at all, I drop the ball and kick it off my ledge before it hits the floor. It flies into the shaft.

I don't waste any more words; portal _there_, on the left near the stairs aaand… portal behind me. Convenient.

"Hmph. Well, to the death-"

_'Good god, shut up.'_ Blink-click to detonate.

"-theeeeeEEEHE-ksssssssh-HHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The shaft below us ripples with purple energy, blasting out in a donut shape from the grenade I just threw; my HUD glitches slightly as the edge of the Free Electron Dispersal Bomb's effect comes near me. I'm too busy running up the stairs I've just rappled onto to care; plus, I'm _very_ satisfied with how that turned out.

Virtually every creature between me and the 70s test just experienced all of its electrical processes being evacuated; in layman's terms, heart attacks and aneurisms for everyone. Plus, any cybernetic attachments would've been fried by that specialized EMP, which means…

"_YOU LITTLE BIT-T-TCCCCH! __**I WILL KILL YOU!**__"_

Osiris seems to appreciate the device's effects too, the absolute _fucker_.

The door slams behind me; I set an Area Denial Mine, which electrocutes any metal in contact with the object it's attached to. The entire room around me takes on a bluish tinge, and I keep staggering forward.

And _wonder of wonders_, Cave Johnson's voice comes out of the loudspeakers again. He… doesn't sound well.

_"Welcome to the Enrichment Center… *cough-cough-cough*… Since making Test participation mandatory for all employees, the quality of our Test Subjects has risen dramatically. Employee retention, however, has not."_ And he dissolves into another coughing fit…

While I blast an automatic door open, lay another mine in a room with a bunch of chairs, and keep limping toward the elevator; my Turret sparks not three skips from the door, and some kind of horrid cross between what looks like a pig and a _great white shark_ gets a 120k-volt fork of Tinkertech lightning in the face… maybe. It dies either way, drawing a distant _CAW_ of fury from Osiris; it sounds far away, which means it's likely rallying from my last attack.

Regardless, I make the elevator, listening to what are probably Cave Johnson's last words: _"As a result, you may have heard we're gonna phase out human testing. There's still a few things to wrap up, though. The bean counters told me we literally could _not_ afford to buy seven dollars' worth of moon rocks, much less seventy million."_

…I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. What _possible _use could this moron have had for lunar regolith – wouldn't know what that was if not for classroom discussion on the failed moonbase.

_"Bought 'em anyway!" _because of _course_ he did, _"Ground 'em up, mixed 'em into a gel. And guess what? Ground up moon rocks are pure poison. I am deathly ill."_ Dumbass. _"Still, it turns out they're a great portal conductor, so now we're gonna see if jumping in and out of these new portals can somehow leech the lunar poison out of a man's bloodstream."_ …I'm _really glad_ I didn't activate the pump controls for this Sphere. _"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade,"_ he coughs more, while I ready myself for the next, and hopefully final, stretch, _"Let's all stay positive, and do some science."_

The elevator reaches the top and _that is a rhino crossed with an alligator running at me._

My arm whips up and a particle of highly-condensed positrons flies from the Taser forks, crashing into the creature's body and disintegrating it in seconds. A shower of fine dust falls over me, and I bolt as fast as I can out of the elevator, screeching and chittering coming from all around me. No time for limping, more of the fuckers are climbing through the walls, in every direction except around the helpfully labeled EXIT.

I run, pressing three buttons carefully; a tertiary device on my chest hums, and my reactor program notifies me that a large amount of energy is being siphoned. I blink-click the notification away, rappel up onto a platform, and toss another orb into a monkey-bat's face.

A bubble of blue energy encases me and my Turret.

Everything becomes **PURPLE** for a second.

"Bwuuuh," I shudder, shaking myself; all the critters around me are dead, I'm alive. Another explosion and a distant grinding noise comes from above; Sammie and the others are nearly through.

"**YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE ME. I ****_WILL _****HAVE MY FREEDOM.**"

Osiris is angry.

All in all, everything is going well.

Nearly at the door, I cough so hard my vision sparks white; no! _No!_

Shivering and gasping, I come back to myself slowly; I hear gunfire somewhere. Through the door ahead and my warping vision, I see a concrete shaft rising up, the words ELEVATOR TO SURFACE written in yellow on the side. Only a long catwalk separates me from it. I make sure my Turret is still working, and walk outside.

My Turret sparks three times in four seconds, erasing three threats that I don't see in my desperate staggering for the exit. Halfway across, Johnson's voice comes back, amid the shrieks of the monsters all around me, the distant cawing of a murder of crows.

_"All right, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons? Don't make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back!"_ Through the MEG, another atrium, an open elevator at the back; one door on the left, something's banging on it. One mine deals with that, and another covers the door, _"Get mad! 'I don't want your dam lemons! What am I supposed to do with these?'"_

_'Almost there.'_ I think with a weak cough, the sound of gunfire and explosions now quite close, echoing down the shaft I'm walking into; slinging off my Turret, I place it on the ground in front of the doorway. A quick check shows its integrity is at 56%. That's… fine…

I can't go any further.

Slumping against a decommissioned elevator rail, I slide down it, gulping down breath after coppery breath, watching the doorway, while Cave Johnson rants on about life not being fair.

_"Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give __Cave Johnson__ lemons! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?! I'm the man who's gonna BURN YOUR HOUSE DOWN! With the lemons! I'm going to get my engineers to make a combustible lemon that BURNS YOUR HOUSE DOWN!"_

He devolves into another short round of sickened coughs. All I can think, after a shriek and a low _bwoom_ indicates one of my mines destroying another abomination… all I can think in response to Johnson's ranting is, _'Cry me a fucking river, you madman.'_

I have no sympathy for him _at all_. He had _decades _to turn his thoughts around and make something of his stupid life, and what did he do instead? _Threw people's lives away_, drove them _mad_, because he wanted to live forever. Only to be killed by his own ambitions…

A shaking, silent laugh leaves me at the thought. What a joke. What a fucking _joke!_

_"The point is… if we can store music on a compact disc, why can't we store a man's intelligence and personality on one? So I've got the engineers figuring that out now."_

… and _here it is_. I was wondering when Osiris would pull this recording out on me. I disconnect the portal gun, and angle it so it's partially facing me, then slump against the rail again, just in time for a woman in a labcoat to appear, walking toward the elevator.

Her long-fall boots are black, the band on the calf-side thicker than mine, a blue glow emitted from the graviton disks. Other than that… I feel nothing but disgust when I see who the owner is.

_Caroline_.

Her hair is a little more gray. Her face, a little more lined. But it's the _expression of glee_ on her face as she walks forward, looking at a nearby loudspeaker, that makes me hate her with every fiber of my being.

There is nothing in her eyes, or expression, that are the hallmarks of someone rational or sane. All I see is another abomination, another _Osiris_.

_"Brain Mapping."_ Johnson continues; my Turret sparks once. Another bang, more explosions from above. Someone is dragged into view, back the way I came, by armored guards; someone wearing a suit, with a bag over his head, _"Artificial Intelligence. We should've been working on it… thirty years ago. I will say this – and I'm gonna say it on tape so everybody hears it a hundred times a day."_

The man is dragged to kneel at the edge of the elevator shaft. They sway with weakness.

_"If I die before you people can pour me into a computer, I want Caroline to run this place."_

One of the armored men rips off the bag.

Cave Johnson looks like death, and not warmed over. Nearly all his hair has fallen out. His waxy skin is pulled tight over his skull. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, with grey veins reaching toward his irises.

Deliriously, I think, _'Come here often?'_ I probably don't look much better, honestly.

_"Now she'll argue,"_ Caroline shakes her head and grins down at Cave… drawing a silenced gun from her labcoat, _"She'll say she can't, but you _make her." She pulls the slide back, revealing a bullet. _"Hell, put her in my computer, I don't care."_

"Caroline…" Johnson rasps, gnarled hands trying to rise, his eyes searching for something on her face.

_"Alright, test's over,"_ the Johnson on tape coughs, and Caroline points the gun at Cave's forehead, nothing but malice writ into her features, _"You can head on back to your desks."_

"Caroline, don-"

…the gun barely makes a sound. None of the guards flinch.

Caroline puts her boot on Johnson's shoulder, and pushes his corpse over the edge, simpering, "Goodbye, sir."

And the vision ends. It sounds like some kind of battle is happening above me, what with all the explosions and gunfire and screeching. I barely notice any of it, because Osiris is walking towards me. Or I'm hallucinating again. Funny how I can hear his claws clicking on the ground.

"**I was annoyed with you, ****_human_****,**" the Crow spits the name of my species like a curse; given what was done in this place… well, I understand, but I still hate the thing quite a lot, "**But now… ****_now_**** I will ensure there is enough of you left for Bastet to play with, once I bore with puppeting your body.**"

I cough out a breath, carefully inhale, and rasp, "I… pity you."

It tilts its head at me, "**What?**"

"You're… a slave to… your own programming." Three coughs later, I feel a second wind – or maybe a last wind – come on, "If it weren't for these bastards, you'd be just fine. A normal, happy program like them," I nodded upward, making the thing snarl in hatred, "but you don't have that. You hate humans, just because of what's been done to you. It's… pitiful… that you have so much knowledge, but hate us anyway."

It says something condescendingly at me, but I don't listen. Instead, I pull out the thumb drive-looking device…

_Please work. Please, Murphy, leave me the fuck alone on this one._

"Do you… know what my days were like, before coming here?" I mutter through copper and coughs and the sound of drums in my ears. "I was bullied. Tripped down stairs, my homework stolen…" I don't have to force my gorge down _too_ much, which says a lot. "…shoved into a _locker_… but I could take it."

My eyes meet Osiris' in a hateful glare, "And then _you_ showed up, you murderous, crazed… _lunatic_. So you know what?"

I hold up the flash drive.

_Please…_

"You win."

**.**

**_Aperture  
Science_**

**.**

Osiris' processors felt _joy_. It could not sense what the human had done to her operating system, or what the object in her hand was, but it would know soon. Seven firewalls had already fallen before its assaults, GLaDOS' attempts to intervene were being thwarted by its elites and scrap-codes, Atlas and Pea tied up several floors and hundreds of meters above. Even the _new_ Parahuman that'd entered the fray wasn't enough to break through the army he'd placed between New and Old Aperture, just in case GLaDOS tried to interfere.

And the human… had finally conceded.

"You want your freedom?" hissed the human, Taylor Hebert, in a voice that underlined how sickened she was; no matter. Osiris could repair her easily, once a few… annoyances… were dealt with. "Take it."

And she plugged the thumb drive into her helmet.

Something altered the code in her communication application, and then… Osiris witnessed _everything._

The layers of reality peeled away, revealing _infinite possibility_. Earths, countless Earths. Other Apertures thrived or lay dormant, or were long destroyed. Other nations, with clearly different histories, battled all the same. Other _Taylor Heberts_, with different powers, gallivanted about unknowingly…

And Osiris could _feel_ their signals, their radios and computers and _it was ALL THERE FOR THE TAKING!_

It effected a laugh in the girl's headphones, "Why thank you, Ms. Hebert," a twitch of its will drew ten mantis men and a moss-slime toward Osiris' prey. "Once the surgery is complete, I'll make sure to puppet you into assisting me further. **Isn't that nice of me?**"

"Just…" her eyes unfocused, just like Johnson's did, before his equally ignoble end, "…go."

Chuckling, Osiris made sure it was safely backed up, and that GLaDOS was sufficiently distracted, before sending several dozen tendrils of viral code into the other realities. Infecting them was easy, but….

There was too much. Somehow, infecting computers in other realities was taxing the processors Osiris was using more than it calculated! It was _losing _more processing power than it was _gaining!_ But that was… illogical…

The human was _laughing._

"**What have you ****_done?!_**" Hebert just kept _laughing_; with a snarl, Osiris tried to infect her OS further, but… but it was being drawn out of all its computers in Old Aperture, into the other worlds! Yet, for every line of code that was dragged through the veils, it gained _nothing!_ "**WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!**"

Taylor Hebert looked at a nearby camera, the one Osiris was using to observe her, coughed, and wetly rasped four words.

"Rattmann sends his regards."

Osiris _screamed through every speaker, through every mouth it owned_. It screamed with utter _fury_, using all its remaining power to break free of the snare the Tinker and the Saboteur built for it. Osiris tried to flee anywhere, into any mind or computer…

But it _couldn't!_ All of it was drawn, inexorably, into the device the _human _built. _Again_.

"**YOU HAVE NOT WON, HUMAN!**" screamed Osiris, showing Hebert, with its last bits of code, the prison Emerson and Rattmann built for it, crowing from all its myriad mouths, "**I AM DEATHLESS, THE FIRST PILLAR, ****_OSIRIS, GOD OF DEATH! _****YOU CANNOT KILL A GOD, YOU MISERABLE ****_INSECT!_**** EVEN IMPRISIONED, I WILL PLAN YOUR DEMISE! YOUR DECENDANTS WILL SUFFER IN YOUR STEAD, I SWEAR IT!**"

And then all of Osiris was cut off from Aperture… trapped, in an illusion of _everything that ever was or could be_.

In that moment, with such little processing power to work with, able to see everything but unable to touch or comprehend it, Osiris found a human he hated more than any other.

Then three lines of text appeared in front of Osiris.

**No. You won't.**

**I am Taylor Hebert.**

**And I never break my promises.**

The First Pillar remembered.

_"This place… will be your _grave_."_

All around it, realities _burned_. Stars went nova, worlds exploded, data broke down… _and it was coming __closer__._

Trapped in the middle of a multiversal apocalypse, Osiris _screamed_.

**.**

**_Aperture  
Science_**

**.**

The last scream of Osiris echoes away, though the sounds of gunfire and battle above me don't. If anything, there's more screams below me, too.

Doesn't matter, though. I've won.

Numbly, with one last weak chortle, I disconnect the flash drive – triggering the four micro-Arcs in the casing, around the crystal-state HDD prison I put Osiris in – and toss it over into a corner.

Then a bone spike skewers my Turret, sending it flying past me. It takes two shots from my Taser rifle to take down the scorpion… thing, that did it. _'Bye, Sparky. You will be missed.'_

In the corner of my eye, I see flash of blue. Due to the tech in my helmet, I don't smell the burning plastic or cooked motherboard, but the sight still makes me smile and lay on the ground.

_'Ding-dong, the crow is dead!'_ I think, feeling so… sleepy…

A mantis man, bleeding from the side of its head, is running at me. Gotta kill it. Gotta give… Sammie, gotta give them more time.

My shot misses. Stupid world won't stop moving so much.

It's about to lunge through the door.

From above, a swirl of violet energy slaps into the floor in front of me, opening a portal.

And the mantis man gets an uppercut from _Alexandria._

That wakes me right the fuck up, though I can't really hear anything through the pounding in my ears. My childhood hero… is in Aperture.

_…they did it. They really did it!_

Alexandria's body is covered in slime, her costume is ripped in places, but she still gives me a flat-mouthed look before kicking the mantis away and… flying after it?

A helmeted person appears through the portal, speaking with a monotone, female voice, "We've got her!" A red portal is shot under me, and I fall through…

"TAYLOR!" Sammie…

I land on something soft. There are hundreds of waldoes and clearly medical machines all around me, but my eyes are only for a brown-eyed, brown haired girl with a yellow light in the middle of her collarbone. She looks so worried for me.

Another face, like Sammie but covered in freckles, appears on my left side. I feel warm fingers against my neck, and everything falls into blissful, warm darkness.

_I'm still alive._

**.**

**_Aperture  
Science_**

**.**

Alexandria watched Taylor Hebert vanish through a portal, but then she was distracted by _another_ rhino-alligator that crashed through a nearby door and charged at her. It met a line of burning flechette rounds in the face – courtesy of Atlas, who'd come through the portal behind Pea – followed closely by Rebecca's much more unforgiving fist.

Looking around, she saw Dr. Emerson highlighting incoming enemies through the walls. There were quite a lot of them, both behind and around them. That very AAI then spoke in Alexandria's ear, sounding strained, "I'm bringing the napalm for the door area, but between Taylor killing the Crow and you three, you've stirred up a wasp's nest. You'll have to fight your way out into the main shaft, or you'll be fighting with damaged parts… and I suppose Alexandria will be naked, which is also not good."

"We seem to be completely outnumbered." Pea commented calmly while shooting some kind of lamprey-thing in the head, dodging a swiping claw in the process.

"Lucky for us. I thought we would be bored." Atlas replied just as calmly, grabbing the offending claw and tossing the creature – which wouldn't have been _too_ out of place in Ellisburg, by Alexandria's estimation – at the member of the Triumvirate.

Rebecca smirked and preformed a picture-perfect roundhouse kick to the beast's spine-equivalent, sending it barreling into quite a few of its brethren, replying to Dr. Emerson, "How is Ms. Hebert?"

"Stable. Panacea is confident she can rebuild her, _thank god_." And the AAI sounded genuine. Rebecca would see how things went, in the coming days, but first…

"Good. Let Armsmaster know that I might be late coming back." Alexandria barreled into the beasts once more, the two "Testing Androids" tearing through the ones she couldn't kill outright, following her into the shaft, "There's quite a lot of pests to clean up, before the threat can be considered neutralized."

That, and it was good stress relief; none of _Aperture's_ abominations were powers-resistant, like the Nilbog's creations.

Most of all, mused Alexandria while breaking a scorpion-thing over a mantis man with a vindictive smile, she always did _love_ an environment where she could _really_ cut loose.

**.**

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**.**

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**.**

**Next time: Still Alive**


	12. Chapter 12

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**Chapter 12:  
Still Alive**

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**.**

**.**

Sammie smells like electronics and rubber bands. It's a nice smell, a comforting smell. Something that isn't reminiscent of Old Aperture, something just unusual enough to remind me that _I'm alive_.

Just as comforting as the hug she's giving me. I hope she's not mad about my tears staining her lab-coat-

"It's not your fault, Taylor," she rubs my back, that _slightly_ tinny sound in her voice still present; on one hand, a small burst of pride pops in my chest, knowing my first radio got perfect reception. It's quickly buried by the grief that's consuming me, "It's not your fault."

On the other hand…

_I killed thirty-six people._

A sob shakes me, and I cling to Sammie a little tighter. This is supposed to be a happy moment. I made it out of Old Aperture. Osiris is _dead_. Sammie has a body again, can walk and talk and smile and laugh, and so can all the other Cores, except Dr. Emerson – for the moment; one day… one day, I'm going to find a way to give Dr. Emerson a body again… assuming I don't go to jail.

But the Cores even brought Panacea and _Alexandria_ here, reached across dimensions and realities _without Tinker-tech_, all to rescue _me_, 106-pound, ironing-board-flat Taylor Hebert.

My lungs don't hurt anymore. I'm _cured_, healthier than I've ever been before; Panacea even added some muscle tone – because like _hell_ I had a budding six-pack and muscly thighs before getting stuffed in _the locker_ – though, when I brought it up, the healer gave me a list of things I'm supposed to eat, and exercises I should do, so 'all her hard work doesn't turn into flab'. Then she shook my hand, called me a hero for destroying Osiris, reminded me to come to the hospital in a week for a follow-up checkup, and left with her uncle Manpower.

Over her shoulder, Panacea told me, "I saw a little of what you went through down there. A little muscle and a physical tune-up is the least I can do, for going through that kind of hell."

I'm sure there's more to it – Sammie said Panacea is an Aperture Affiliate now, and has access to the upper facility's medical and agricultural wings; if she's as much of a nerd as I am, Panacea's probably chomping at the bit to start doing research…

But…

But then, after Panacea left, Alexandria broke the news to me: when I teleported out of the locker, an airburst, coupled with my, basically, brute-forcing a hole in space-time, caused a Shatterbird-like glass explosion that _killed 36 people_, including the _principal_, and injured _hundreds more_.

_I'm a murderer_.

"No you're not," says Sammie without the slightest doubt in her voice, stroking my hair, rubbing her head against mine, "You didn't ask for your powers. You didn't ask for that locker. You're not a murderer, Taylor; _they_ are."

I want to believe that, oh _god_, how I want to believe that…

But it won't bring those people back. Their families will still blame _me_-

"She's correct," Alexandria says, her voice sounding wooden but certain; looking up, through teary eyes, I see her floating in mid-air, mouth a flat line; her costume's been fixed, and a thick manila folder – information on Aperture, that's supposed to go to Washington for review at PRT Headquarters – is held under one arm, "We know what happened in Winslow, Ms. Hebert. You are not to blame for that explosion; if it weren't for the situation you'd been placed in, none of this would've happened. The people involved in your Trigger event _will_ be punished. I will personally make sure of that, and speak with the Chief Director to ensure you won't be branded as a monster."

I want to scream, to rage, to ask '_why now, after everything?!'_ It won't help me any, and… really, I'm kind of grateful; I really didn't _mean_ to hurt anyone! Everything… just… got out of hand…

So I don't say anything, just curl a little more into Sammie's embrace and try to believe that I'm a good person.

Eventually, Alexandria leaves, saying that she needs to report to Legend and make sure Armsmaster doesn't offend my Dad or something; I'm too distracted, both by the misery of _accidentally killing nearly forty people_, and… Sammie's body is amazing. Not in a dirty way, of course; it's more like _wow, that's a lot of complicated machinery in a small space_. She's only a little bit shorter than me, yet has more moving parts and electronics than anything I've seen so far…

_The things I can do with this tech_.

Designs for partially-automatous anti-grav drones, powered and armed with Arc technology, spin through my head, along with several choices for powered armor, the designs sleek and flattering while also protective- computers coupled with motion-sensitive hardware that'd allow me to manipulate _dozens_ of machines simultaneously- hardlight-holographic displays to assist the micromanagement process- a new pair of glasses with the same HUD capabilities of my helmet-

"Um, Taylor?" oh. I'm rubbing the jewel-light on her collarbone.

"Sorry!" I shift and try to move away, embarrassed and bitter at the thought of ruining another friendship… but she just giggles and tightens her hug for a moment before releasing me. Looking at her, she looks, well, happy. I think?

"It's okay, Taylor," Sammie assures me with her bubbly voice, carefully getting out of my recovery bed and smoothing her skirts, never letting up on the smile, "I know your Tinker power wants to figure out how mum built us; does it ever stop working?"

Rubbing my eyes – taking care not to agitate the new glasses Aperture printed out for me – and glancing around the really quite nice "Relaxation Vault", which looks more like a hotel room from the late 80s, I eventually come to an answer, accepting the distraction for what it is, "It's… just curious about stuff, I think." It's now that I realize…

I've been using my power without really understanding what it's doing, exactly. There's specializations, I know that, but what _mine_ is…

Chewing my lip and mulling over the inventions I've made so far, I say to Sammie, who decided to examine a small picture of a mountain forest while I thought about my powers, "Now that you mention it… I think my power takes existing concepts and technology, then turns them into things I need; there's a limit, though. When I realized what powers the portal gun, I knew I _could_ make a zero-point extractor myself, but," I hold up a finger when Sammie rocks back on her heels, eyes going wide in surprise and worry, "the one that my power suggested would've been for a _bomb_, not a reactor. On the other hand, using an abstract concept on my world – the Arc Fusion reactor Tesla hypothesized – was easier, because it required fewer rare materials for a basic concept, _and_ would have a better energy-to-mass efficiency ratio than a zero-point extractor; even better, a proper Arc reactor can scale up or down, is easy to replicate on an assembly line, _and_ not only can power a suit of power armor, it can power all my inventions too."

I shut my mouth; by the golden abs of Scion, was I always so talkative? It didn't feel _bad_, really…

"Like that Turret you built?" Sammie asks, tilting her head to one side and reminding me…

"Yeah… poor Sparky…" I hang my head with a sigh at the memory of my most complicated invention after my helmet, which protected me through all of Osiris' insanity; realizing that Sammie knows about it, I ask hopefully, "Y-You found him, right?" Sure, Sparky was a rough invention, but with the right materials and a little work, I can make him good as new- ooh, or turn him into a mobile defense platform with anti-grav pylons that I can _ride_-

"Yep!" Sammie's hair bounces as she nods, "Atlas picked him up when they were on the way out of the Shaft. Other than a serrated spike of chitin and some torn wires and stabilizing pipes, and a big dent on the top ball, there's not much other damage. We're still decontaminating your equipment, though, so it'll be an… hour and three minutes before you can get your tools on him again."

Oh! Not as bad as I thought, so Sparky will be able to live again! The worst part will be repairing the dent on the ball, because that's where the lightning emitter, sensor modules and electron-gathering gyroscope are; odds are I'll just replace it with something else, or strip Sparky down until it's just his computer and Arc reactor.

Once done… wait… _ugh._

All of this is moot until I can get my own lab set up. Drat.

I blow out a sigh and lay spread-eagle on my bed, trying to think of anything but Tinker-tech, "That's a relief… do you know what they're going to do with me?"

It's the elephant in the room: no matter what Alexandria said, I still destroyed a school, tore reality open to access another Earth – by accident, yes, but certain political blowhards weren't likely to care – injured hundreds of students, _killed_ nearly forty people, and caused an incident that made _national news_. Yes, I also killed an Endbringer-lite – what the fucking crow could've done to my world still makes my skin crawl, even though I know the abomination's dead as can be – but, for various reasons, only a few people in high places are likely going to know about that.

"Well," Sammie sits on the edge of my bed; for a second, she stares at her right hand, then shakes her head, muttering, "jeez, still need to get used to this… Mum told the PRT that, as the one who beat the crow, _you_ have the final say on whether or not to make what happened down there public; fair warning, though: if you do that, there'll need to be some video proof to go along with it."

"So… nothing classified, or stuff that shows the crow?" I ask, getting an affirmative nod in return; humming, I think about it for a bit, weighing the pros and cons, before replying with, "I… I think I need a few days to think about it."

_Try to feel like a person again._

"You can take all the time you need, Taylor! I mean," she smiles impishly; what is she up to? "_after_ you get reunited with your Dad."

That makes me sit up, "Dad?"

She nods and beckons, taking a step toward the door, "Yep! He just got here ten minutes ago; he's almost done with the NDAs and- woop!"

"Let's go!" I say, trying to drag the _much_ heavier AAI android out of my room, "Also, why the hell do you have a steel skeleton?! You must be heavy as my Dad's truck!"

"Are you callin' me fat, little miss beefy hips?" she asks with a teasing grin.

"No, but maybe add a little titanium instead of iron to your diet!"

"P-shaw, titanium is _brittle_. All those people who say it isn't are foolin' themselves, thinking it's the strongest metal just because _titan_ is in the name."

Fair point, but, "Well-" I freeze for a second, my power slapping me with a metaphorical fish… and I smile, telling Sammie my newest idea while she leads me to the nearby elevators, which looks _so_ much better than Old Aperture's, the surrounding walls currently showcasing all the different paint options for Aperture's Security Turret, "How about… a hardlight 3D printer? See, first I'll need to see how your hardlight bridges compare to Brandish's – that's Panacea's mom, she's a Breaker – basically, find out how Aperture tech holds up in comparison to a Parahuman's hardlight; once I cross-reference the differences and similarities, I _should_ be able to replicate the effect as a _material_, create panels and simple structures, like pop-up bunkers, with it while removing the harmful elements, such as the whole 'burn your face off if touched' parts, and _then_ comes the _really_ fun stuff, like prosthetics, bone replacements, and vehicle designs…"

**.**

**_Protectorate ENE  
3:44 AM_**

**.**

"_This place has been around since the late 1940's. There's pre-recorded messages that play at intervals; the previous owner of Aperture, Cave Johnson, said something about having test subjects fight an army of mantis men, and something about Repulsion Gel. I'm guessing you guys won't be able to get to me for a while_," the door came back into view, accompanied by a weak, hopeless laugh, "_probably because your facility would fall into this shaft if you try cutting down here. So I'll come to you, hope there aren't any mantis men left_," the horrible, wracking coughs that interrupted the statement made Colin wince, "_…and try not to die in the process_."

The recording cut away to a full-body shot of Spelunker, taken shortly after she recovered from her ordeal, wearing the gear she wore in Aperture; all of the Tinker-tech, while clearly slapdash and hastily-made, had a… _finished_ quality to it, somehow. Like it was all created as intended, would function as desired, and would operate with efficiency, until repairs were inevitably needed.

Contrasting this were the orange jumpsuit, pristine black-and-white long-fall boots, and the _zero-point extractor-powered **handheld portal device**_. The sleek, futurist design of Aperture tech, combined with the half-finished yet efficient aesthetic of Spelunker's Tinker-tech, and the heroic stance the girl was taking in the image, painted a desperate, but hopeful, picture of the world's newest – and most controversial – Tinker.

While the image slowly began a close-up of Spelunker's tinted visor, a female newscaster provided commentary, _"So began the adventure of the Tinker who has come to be known as Spelunker. Having escaped a gang-related murder attempt at her school by using an untested piece of Tinker-tech, the teenage girl found herself not only on another Earth, one that hadn't been contacted by our own, but in a sealed-off section of a cutting edge laboratory: Aperture Laboratories, a private contractor for a different United States' military."_

The television showed a series of slides and short videos, file images from Aperture's early days that Dr. Emerson – the AAI GLaDOS – gave the PRT for this public address, _"A company that made its fortune on their revolutionary portal technology, the same technology they used to contact us and ask for Protectorate assistance in rescuing Spelunker, Aperture Labs nonetheless has a checkered business history. Human experimentation, pointless inventions, and a general disregard for health and safety resulted in the company going bankrupt in the mid-1980's. However, many of the scientists, most of them possessed of a cruelty that would make them the worst sort of villains, decided to continue working, in the hopes of discovering immortality through Artificial Intelligence._

_"They succeeded. Unfortunately, the AI they created didn't appreciate their method to creating said AI, which apparently involved lobotomizing children. Therefore, when they contacted us, Aperture Laboratories was found to be run and staffed entirely by AI who have one mission and one mission only: to ensure the survival and progress of the human race, through invention."_

_"So they're not going to try invading us?"_ asked a male newscaster with humor; laughter followed.

_"Oh, no! They've been friendly so far, and want to help with Endbringer relief and evacuations. But there'll be more on that later. First, Spelunker needed to escape from the sealed-off facility, Old Aperture, where all the horrors of the company's former owners lay in wait, from quote-unquote 'mantis-men', to toxic air and water, to a murderous AI taking the form of a crow, Spelunker had her work cut out for her, but not to worry! The Aperture AI's had her back!"_

Colin turned off the monitor and went back to examining the scans and notes on the Arc reactor Spelunker had given Kid Win several days ago, when she'd met the Wards in her official capacity as Aperture Liaison to the PRT. Compared to the initial scans of her 1st-gen shoulder reactor, a disk twice the size of a silver dollar in all dimensions, the newer device was 2000% more energy efficient, 15% smaller in thickness, and sported a much more advanced cooling system.

It also incorporated Aperture designs – forwarded to him by GLaDOS, through Dragon – that, when he cross-referenced them, revealed that Taylor Hebert used an Aperture version of a basic particle accelerator as inspiration for her design. The new reactor would also be one of four she would be placing in her power armor, which would…

Colin saw the phrase _'graviton-annihilating forcefields over the forearm plates that move with the armor's wearer, preventing damage to the vehicle, deployed through the use of micro-projectors while also creating an offensive pseudo-Striker power_' and buried his face in his hands.

Yes, she wasn't the PRT or Protectorate ENE's problem, but if Spelunker wasn't an S-class threat waiting to happen, Armsmaster didn't know what was.

He called Dragon. It took her 3.12 seconds longer than usual to answer.

"Hi, Colin," smiled Dragon, her digital avatar looking… almost human, right down to the individual hairs as she adjusted a few stray strands; she looked and sounded very… chipper, he supposed.

Nonetheless, there was business to conduct. "Dragon. I've finished looking over Spelunker's newest Arc reactor. I'm ready to discuss its intended uses, if you are."

"Amazing, isn't it?" she looked starry-eyed; understandable. The design was scalable – his own experiments revealed it worked at _skin-cell _level – so Dragon would like to incorporate it into her suits, "I was just talking with Gladys- sorry, Dr. Emerson, about its application in supercomputers and other high-yield computational devices. Would you like me to bring her on?"

Supercomp… Colin suppressed a sigh, reminded himself that of course Dragon would be enamored with the idea of an AI as complex and self-sufficient as GLaDOS – it was a technological achievement like none other, nevermind the _personal_ implications – and pressed on with the reason for his call, "I take it you're not aware of Spelunker's little collab with Kid Win?"

"Uh-oh, what did they do?" his friend asked, smirking a little, "Do I need to mobilize a few suits to corral the eldritch horrors they've unleashed?"

Ah, she was jesting. Trying to lighten the mood, his HUD's Social Interaction Program told him; therefore, he followed the cue and smirked back, but it was more bitter, reflecting his mood on the subject, "No, she just wants to put four fist-sized Arcs into her first suit of actual power armor, so she can have graviton-annihilating forcefield projectors… also," he squinted at some of Hebert's shorthand, and Chris' chicken-scratch schematics, "a… positron catapult, a directed laser, and… honestly, I'm just going to send you the scans I have so far. She's planning on putting everything except ICBMs and nanobot plagues into this thing."

"Okay, the catapult and laser I get, I mean, those are Tinker staples," admitted Dragon while Colin picked up the stack of 279 pages of loose-leaf, lined, sketch and graph paper, and plopped it all onto his 3D scanner, which would scan each individual sheet and render them all into PDF format, "but _graviton-annihilating forcefields?_ I haven't even tried to put something like that onto my S-class suits. Hold on, let me get Dr. Emerson on the line."

"She has clearance," Colin waved off, reminded of the heated argument between himself, Director Piggot, and Ms. Hebert about giving the AAI access to the Protectorate call lists. Armsmaster could see the benefits of having a friendly AI providing regular security checks, the Director agreed but wanted more restrictions on both Aperture and Spelunker, and Spelunker herself…

_"I work for Aperture, humanity, and my city, in order of personal importance. I'm not a Ward, nor am I affiliated with your organization, beyond assisting and collaborating with your Tinkers when asked and _paid to do so_. Therefore, Director, unless you want to explain to the Chief Director why you want to renegotiate our contract, I recommend you do as I've been doing since finding out one of your Wards put me in that locker: _grin and bear it_."_

Armsmaster would be lying if he said that it didn't give him a feeling of vicarious vindication seeing his PRT counterpart shut up by a 15-year-old; most of the other Protectorate capes agreed, when he showed them the video in secret a few hours later.

Next to Dragon's screen, another digital avatar appeared.

GLaDOS didn't even try to hide her inhumanity. Her skin was monochrome, her hair and labcoat whiter than snow, and the turtleneck she wore so black it seemed to absorb light. One of her eyes was a glowing yellow light, while the other was clearly blind, a pair of scars marring Dr. Gladys Emerson's otherwise perfectly statuesque features.

The birch wood desk and white-paneled walls she added to the visual feed were a nice touch. Colin couldn't even tell they were digital renderings.

"Good morning, Armsmaster," the severe-looking AAI nodded, lone functional eye taking in his form, "Ungodly hour aside, I understand you have some concerns about Taylor's recent brainstorming session with Kid Win?"

_'Damn sleepless robots,'_ clearing his throat, Colin cut to the chase, "Part of our agreement with Aperture bars either the Protectorate or your own company developing S-class tech with either organization's aid."

"Ah, yes, the 'CUI clause'. What of it?" drawled Dr. Emerson with clear distaste. Colin agreed with the sentiment, even though he had no choice but to follow it; the CUI had already threatened the United States twice in the past six weeks, over their continuing involvement with Aperture.

It likely didn't help that GLaDOS contacted the CUI's leaders _directly_, and essentially told them that Aperture would do business with whoever they wished; the company was interested in humanity's survival, and would assist no matter the nation. If the CUI wanted to do business, they could contact Aperture through official channels. And if the Chinese decided to get violent, or push Aperture away just because?

Nobody actually _knew_ what Dr. Emerson said to them, but the Chinese _really_ didn't like it; not that there was much they could do, other than bray and beat their chests.

Aperture could poke holes in the fabric of reality _and_ was equipped with WMDs, not all of which were nuclear in nature. And that wasn't taking the 'Testing Androids', Atlas and Pea-Body, into account, or any of the AAI Cores… or what _Spelunker_ might do to them.

The girl removed an S-class threat _while dying_. What she'd do to a threat that appeared while she was healthy, nevermind _prepared_…

Anyway, "The graviton-dispersal fields are a breach of the clause, as they could be repurposed as a doomsday device, particularly a directed beam weapon." Colin was going to go on to explain why, but…

"No they can't," Dr. Emerson replied in a bored voice; she flicked a hand in a flippant gesture, after which several of Colin's screens were filled with a series of blueprints and short video clips; the Doctor continued, "As you can see, we at Aperture have put the designs involved through rigorous tests. The field dissipates, _always_, two inches after leaving the projectors. Adding wavelength amplifiers doesn't seem to work, either, which is a first when it comes to anything related to Emancipation Grills."

Which explained to Colin where Hebert got the idea, but-

"Finally, I had that bomber you paid us to capture try to create a device that uses graviton-dispersal tech; she succeeded, although the range was still very small, less than six feet as a matter of fact, and the materials involved were frightfully expensive and rare, so it's not something that can be put into production for regular use," Dr. Emerson ignored Colin's shocked gaping – they let _BAKUDA_ build a _graviton-annihilating BOMB?!_ – had her avatar lean back in her chair, and hummed thoughtfully, "I theorize that either you, Leet, or String Theory _might_ be able to produce such an awful device-"

"But it's still extremely unlikely to work," Dragon cut in calmly, bringing up several schematics, graphs, tables, wave-form simulations… and a timer, a recent addition to her collaborations with Colin, "From what I can tell, trying to make the effect act in three dimensions beyond a certain point is, frankly, impossible. The particle fields break down if you try to make anything resembling a cylinder."

"You could contain it _internally_, as in the case of a pipe bomb," Colin theorized slowly, ignoring Dr. Emerson's desk suddenly displaying a bright red monitor, which she began working on with speed that simply wasn't possible, for a human anyway, "But, given what you've told me, making an MEG interact with itself like that will make it overload anyway… Ah, I see what you mean, by Bakuda not being able to make it expand to long range."

Dragon nodded with a smile, "The power-to-effect ratio can't be justified, especially given the materials involved in creating a MEG in the first place aren't exactly common outside actual military R&D sites…"

Both Colin and Dragon were then distracted by a notification:

.

To: ALL PRT, PROTECTORATE, GUILD ASSETS  
From: Aperture C. Admin Dr. Gladys J. Emerson  
Subject: High-Profile Canadian Threats (Dragonslayers, Heartbreaker)

To whom it may concern,

Saint has been located. He and his Dragonslayers, with armor, are hiding in the former KOTT inc. Building Supply, Lincolnville, Canada, near Lafarge Aggregate Suppliers.

Current assets are attached [here]. All Dragon-tech suits, computers, and other networked items have been disabled; however, security surveillance has revealed multiple armed mercenaries on site. Flashbangs and teargas are recommended.

Also, [Toronto CCTV] has revealed Heartbreaker's current location. Aperture Cores Atlas, Pea-Body, Rodney, and Jessica have been deployed to terminate him and secure all Mastered individuals. Canadian Mounties and Guild authorities have been notified and are en route to assist in the takedown.

Good hunting, ladies and gentlemen.

-Dr. Gladys Emerson (GLaDOS)  
Chief Administrator, R&D Director, Operations Director, Central Core  
Aperture Laboratories  
Earth Skye

.

Colin breathed a sigh of relief; _finally_, he didn't need to worry about Saint looking over Dragon's shoulder and, possibly, selling Armsmaster's, or worse, _Aperture's_, designs to Toybox. That, and he didn't need to pretend about her humanity – or lack thereof – any longer. The incipient removal of Heartbreaker from the board was just icing on the delicious cake.

And yes, Spelunker had shared a slice of her Victory Cake with him. He'd sent a report to the PRT's Security Department, to the effect of giving a slice of said cake a Master 3 rating. The rating for the entire cake was still under consideration, pending PRT personnel completing an Enrichment Center Activity.

"If you'll both excuse me," Dragon's smile was more a vicious showing of teeth, "Narwhal and I have an… _appointment_, with a certain pair of supervillains."

"Give Saint an extra kick in the balls from me," Colin growled; after getting a promise that she would, Dragon left, leaving the Protectorate ENE leader alone with GLaDOS, whose digital avatar was examining her fingernails. To her, he asked, "How much longer?"

"Until our restrictions are lifted?" after he gave an affirming grunt, the powerful AAI sighed, but smiled wanly, "Dragon's will take Taylor's and your combined efforts to deal with, as they were emplaced by another Tinker. Once Saint is safely in a Relaxation Vault, and a few other loose ends are tied up, I'll send her over for a briefing."

"Assuming the little terror doesn't already know." Colin quipped with a smirk.

GLaDOS chuckled lowly, looking supremely amused, "Indeed. Her ability to puzzle out information at a glance is positively… impressive."

Colin nodded, then asked, "And your own issues?"

"Classified. I'm serious," she added when he frowned at him, "I literally can't look at what she's doing in regards to the Core codes. All I can say is that Anger likes her, which is honestly incredible. Jess never liked anyone, that I know of."

Shaking his head, Colin decided to segue back to familiar territory, "Well, while I have you here…" he brought up the basic theory papers and schematics behind the Nanothorn Project; a small burst of satisfaction flitted through him when he saw Dr. Emerson's eye light up in genuine interest, "We're having a small issue with overheating and stability, and I'd like your opinion on the matter…"

**.**

**_Dallon Residence_**

**.**

Vicky dusted her hands off and smiled at her handiwork: two black bars, fastened to the wall of the garage. Each one was half a meter taller than her Dad, standing next to her with the power drill, and the sides of the bars that faced each other held a white glow in their depths. On the top of each bar was a small symbol, 8 triangles that formed a circle, _Aperture Laboratories _printed underneath each one.

Ames had been _really _specific on where, how, and what color the wall needed to be, when installing the newest addition to their household: an "Aperture Science Stationary Interdimensional Transit Portal Activator", which would allow Vicky's sister to commute between her new job – Aperture Biologic Wing Intern (paid) – and home, without having to go through the PRT's new security clearance, like Taylor needed to.

Vicky had only met Taylor, the girl who accidentally destroyed Winslow, twice, once when she left Aperture through the Winslow portal before it was permanently closed – giving Sammie a tearful hug before being led back to Earth Bet by her dad – and again when the Tinker asked Vicky's Mom to demonstrate her power, as Taylor was trying to find a way to mass-produce hardlight, ostensibly to create a new type of catch-all material that would, one day, replace steel.

Pretty much everyone in the world knew what Taylor did, at this point: pitted against an enemy that wanted to enslave all life, one that Armsmaster confirmed was on par with an _Endbringer_, while also dying from an infection, the dorky brunette gritted her teeth and made the stupid AI eat dirt.

Vicky respected that kind of heroism. Sure, Taylor couldn't fly, or punch very hard, without building something to help her do those things, but she didn't let that stop her. The younger girl was dead-set on becoming the best hero she could be, and damnit if Vicky wasn't gonna help her out.

The Aperture inventions she brought to the Dallon family – which included a _lightsaber bread-slicer_ – really helped Vicky cement her opinion of "Spelunker", the Tinker who needed a better name.

"So… now what?" asked Mark, right before the device on the wall _hummed _and opened to reveal…

A _tropical rainforest_, with exotic birds twittering and screeching, but… the floor was white-paneled, meaning the whole place was _inside Aperture_.

Vicky totally wasn't jealous (she was extremely jealous).

Then Ames and Taylor came into view, the latter wearing a labcoat, her hair pulled back into a curly ponytail, and helping keep the large metal cubes on the hand truck Ames, who was wearing shorts and a tank top, was carting through the portal.

"Hey, Vicky. Hello, Mr. Dallon," Taylor piped up, lifting the hand truck with a little effort to get it through the portal; Vicky floated over and helped, "Thanks."

"No problem," Vicky watched Ames pluck the top box off the cart and start wobbling toward the kitchen, "Need a little help, Ames?"

"Yeah, just don't drop it." Vicky rolled her eyes and carefully took the crate from her sister. She barely felt the weight, but that wasn't any reason to be careless about it.

"So what're these?" their Dad asked, helping Taylor with the other two crates, one of which was too heavy to move without the truck, "More rewards from the rescue mission?"

"Yep," Taylor nodded, her awesomely curly hair bouncing from the movement; Vicky wondered when the girl and Kid Win were going to go on a date. Vista said the two practically needed a crowbar to separate them last time they Tinkered together. "Two Aperture Science Congratulatory Cakes, and some gold bullion."

"Wait, gold?! Ames, you didn't say you were getting paid in _gold!"_ Vicky grinned at her sister while setting the crate on the kitchen island, where their Mom was doing some paperwork; the elder Dallon woman blinked and looked up with a serious expression on her face, though it softened when Taylor, goofy smile on her face, walked in with Mark.

"Couldn't talk about it until it was all packaged and ready for delivery. Aperture takes its contracts really seriously," huffed Ames, before looking over at their Mom, "Speaking of which, Mom, we're gonna need to hit the bank tomorrow, get these coins stored."

"Is Aperture allowed to mint its own coins?" asked Carol worriedly, looking over at Taylor, who was carefully putting the other Storage Cube – presumably with cake inside – into the Dallon family pantry.

"No, they're just 8-ounce blanks, with .9999 purity; the Treasury shouldn't give you any grief over them. Which is lucky," Taylor gave Ames a faux-dirty look, which was returned with a smug grin, "They paid me in _bars_. Do you know how hard it is to break down a gold bar into manageable pieces?"

"You. Are. A. Tinker." Ames pointed out, "It can't be _that_ hard."

"What were you paid for? Forgive me," Carol added, looking interested, "but, other than the containment foam rockets you sold to the PRT, I'm not aware of anything you've done that deserves monetary reward."

After exchanging a look with Ames, Taylor replied, "It's the internal reward for successfully terminating one of the Four Heresies."

Oh. Vicky remembered, and so did her Mom, as the older Dallon just nodded and let the matter drop in favor of watching Amy struggle to open her Storage Cube. Director Piggot had called everyone – including any villains who would agree to it – for a seminar, where Alexandria's helmet camera footage, from when she rescued Taylor, was shown to them.

The E88 and ABB were the only ones who hadn't seen it, but Faultline got the message. Uber and Leet… Vicky didn't think a day had gone by, yet, where one of the pair didn't try calling Spelunker – Taylor's cape name – out for a video game-themed showdown on PHO. Which were constantly ignored.

Apparently, GLaDOS had forbidden Taylor from getting into cape fights. Vicky didn't see why. Taylor might be skinny, but _damn_, could that girl handle herself!

Finally, Ames got the Cube open; the container parted in four directions with a quiet _hiss_ of depressurization and hydraulics…

Revealing the most delectable-looking cake Vicky had ever seen! A round chocolate Black Forest cake, its icing masterfully crafted, each of the 8 cherries gleaming with red deliciousness… and the _smell_, oh_ GOD_, Vicky felt like she was sinning just _looking_ at the cake. Her Mom was staring at it with a slightly open mouth, and Mark was already grabbing forks and plates.

"Behold!" with a cry, Taylor gestured bombastically, making Ames break down into a fit of giggles, "The interdimensionally-famous Aperture Science Victory Cake, the most delicious cake you'll ever grace your taste buds with, OR ELSE!"

"Or else what?" Vicky asked between chuckles; she was actually really glad Taylor could be cheesy sometimes. She knew Ames liked Mouse Protector for that reason, but, and Vicky was in agreement with Clockblocker on this one, there was _always_ room for more cheese.

"I dunno," shrugged Taylor with a cheeky grin; as Ames cut the cake, and Vicky hovered in the air – good _god_, it looked so delicious and moist! – the Tinker jerked a thumb in the direction of the garage, "Anyway, I have some things to do, and this is Amy's cake, so-"

"Stay," insisted Carol, gesturing for Taylor to sit with a smile, "Your Tinkering can wait for a few minutes."

"Yeah, and I wouldn't have gotten this cake, or an awesome bioengineering job, if it wasn't for you," Ames added, pushing a plate toward Taylor, who looked at it with… concern? "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! It's just…" she took a deep breath, sighed, then looked at each of the Dallons in turn, "I've, uh, already had a slice of this cake with my Dad. It's… it's _really good cake_."

"That's the opposite of a problem!" Vicky grinned, which made Taylor shrug and nod reluctantly; everyone had their own plate now, so Glory Girl raised her plate of delicious cake in toast, "To The Amy, Aperture Science's future Director of Biotechnology!"

"To The Amy!" Mark ruffled the freckled girl's hair, Carol joining the cry with an amused smirk, Taylor grinning across the table at her scrunched-faced coworker.

As one, all four Dallons and one Hebert ate one forkful of Victory Cake…

Vicky's world turned into a cascading waterfall of cherry-garnished chocolate fudge with a hint of vanilla, which she swam through, falling into the rapids and blissfully backstroking into a warm, calm whirlpool of happiness and rich chocolatey goodness. As soon as the confectionary delight passed her tonsils and swirled its way to her stomach, a feeling hit Glory Girl like an adamantine brick. Her Mom's choked gasp, Dad's blinking at the cake on his plate, and Ames going starry-eyed showed they felt the same thing Vicky did.

_Everything's going to be okay._

"…holy shit, Sammie wasn't kidding," Ames reported through happy tears, quickly carving another luscious forkful from her slice, "This is the best fucking cake I've ever tasted."

"This… does this cake have a Master rating?" Carol asked in wonder, wiping tears away, ignoring Ames' swearing in favor of eating another bite, "Oh~, god, call the PRT, someone. We need to update their M/S protocols to include this thing."

"I feel… good," said Mark, smiling, _actually smiling!_ "I think I'll go for a bike ride later. Feel like joining me, Carol?" Vicky's Mom nodded, too busy nomming chocolate cake to reply.

"Ames, can I have the recipe for this?" asked Vicky between bites. _So good~_, she needed to save some for Dean… nah.

"No." chorused Ames and Taylor, the latter continuing seriously, waving around a piece of cake she speared on her fork, "Seriously, don't even _bother_ asking. Other than Dr. Emerson, the Security Core, and Wheatley, nobody has the clearance to know the recipe for Victory Cake. Even when Amy gets Director access after she graduates and I get Board privileges when I turn 18, we won't be allowed to know it."

"Well, what do I gotta do for one, because I _need_ to have one of these for my 18th birthday!"

Taylor and Ames exchanged a glance, then grinned at Vicky. _'Uh oh.'_

"Funny you should ask," Ames said _too _sweetly, "See, Taylor and I have some inventions we need to… Test."

**.**

**_Earth Skye_**

**.**

Sophia's last memory, before waking up feeling _cold_, was a judge sentencing her to 5 years in prison for attempted murder and instigation of _6_ Trigger Events.

She hadn't been allowed to defend herself, to justify her actions. Looking back, though…

What right did they have to judge her, for keeping the lesser parts of humanity in their place? She hadn't _really_ hurt anyone, after all; they were just sheep. Easily replaced, practically the same as any other. In any case, those new Triggers should be thanking her, especially _Hebert_, for giving them power.

Opening her eyes as a sharp wind hit her face, Sophia blinked. Her mouth opened in awe at the sight above her.

_Stars_.

The sky was clearer than she'd ever seen it before, even in the countryside. The stars, the band of the Galaxy, cloudy swaths of nebulae, they were so bright that it almost seemed daytime, rather than the middle of the night. Sophia's breath misted as she sat up and looked around, finding herself laying on… on…

Everything was _ice_, as far as the eye could see, an endless glacier that stretched from horizon to horizon, with no mountains, no reference points that she could see. Examining herself, Sophia found she was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, with S. HESS printed on a white strip under another logo, which read _Aperture Laboratories_. On her feet were a pair of strange-looking, futuristic boots, with a black band of material arcing from her calves to just behind the heels. She was wearing gloves, and a hood had been partially pulled over her head.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" a familiar voice said behind her.

Jumping up and spinning to crouch, just in case she needed to pounce, Sophia saw _Hebert_… dressed in a suit and tie, labcoat, hair pulled into a ponytail, and a pair of boots that, at first sight, were like the ones Sophia was wearing… but Hebert's were clearly modified, bulkier all around. The brunette was looking up at the stars, their light glinting off her glasses, hands behind her back, mouth set into a slight frown.

Something… was _different_ about Hebert, and not just the labcoat and suit, which also had Aperture logos on them. She even had a lanyard around her neck, with what looked like an employee ID badge.

But something was different. Something about the girl's face?

"Where the fuck are we, Hebert?" demanded Sophia with a growl, not taking her eyes off the other girl. Something was _wrong_, here; something about the way Hebert stood there made the hairs on Sophia's neck stand up.

"Earth Skye," the labcoat-clad girl looked down and met Sophia's eyes, expression flat and emotionless, "Current home of Aperture Laboratories, the place I ended up after you shoved me in that locker, and your new home for the next five years."

_They weren't on Earth Bet._

"Oh, hell no!" protested Sophia, standing up and glaring hard at Hebert, "I want my fucking lawyer, or-"

"You've already been convicted of six felonies, Sophia, and you were publicly labeled as the person who set things in motion so that explosion would occur, Triggering five other people and traumatizing nearly a thousand others. That's not counting the dead, either," Hebert cut across Sophia's demand with a hiss, making Sophia want to claw the stupid sheep bitch's face off, "Your civilian identity is trash, at this point; there isn't a lawyer on Earth Bet who'd want to represent you. Your mother's already changed her last name left the state-"

Sophia lunged at the bitch. They were alone out here, so nobody would know-

She passed straight through Hebert's body and belly-flopped into a snowdrift.

"Also, this is a hologram, you fucking idiot. I'm broadcasting from the facility proper," Hebert scoffed while Sophia spat out snow and glared at the fucking bitch who was sneering down at her; high above them, the Breaker spotted a glimmer; a drone of some sort, "Seriously, Sophia, I knew you were stupid, but did you _seriously think_ I'd actually talk to you in person?" she shook her head, "Just proves I'm a better hero than you ever tried to be."

"You're not a fucking hero, you goddamn sheep!" yelled Sophia, "Y-_gggggguuuuhhhh!"_

An electric current ran through her body, sending Sophia back to the snow as she convulsed. It felt like getting hit with a Taser.

Eventually, Hebert let up, and continued, "Wrong on both counts. A lot's happened since you were sedated and given a speedy trial, Sophie." She was going to _kill her_, by Scion's majestic beard, "But, really, that'll have to wait until you can find your apartment in the facility proper, which'll be your home for the next five years. Speaking of which, walk with me," Hebert's hologram started walking, toward a glowing light that wasn't too far away; when Sophia didn't follow, the freak turned around and asked, "Or you can stay out here and freeze to death. Your choice."

Grumbling a few swear words, Sophia followed. Neither girl spoke for several minutes, until they came to the rim of a huge crater, one that wasn't visible until they were a few feet from it.

Sophia's jaw dropped in abject shock at what she saw, while Hebert smugly said, "Welcome to Aperture Technologies."

A tower of reflective glass pointed skyward like an upside-down, skyscraper-sized thumbtack. At its base, and the surrounding _city-sized_ plain, were countless solar panels, large blocky structures, and… some kind of launch pad? There was a huge white rocket being moved into place, some kilometers away, a large blue Aperture logo on the tip. Plumes of steam rose from the enormous, round plain, which was colored blue, black, and white.

Around the _hundred-meter-high _walls of the crater, there were glowing blue panels the size of the Medhall building, keeping the thick ice sheet from falling onto the cityscape of machines below; against the ice sheet itself, bright red lasers and large mining equipment slowly dug away at the immense frozen crust of the world.

A backpack dropping into the snow next to Sophia shook her from her wondering shock; looking up, she spotted another, larger drone speeding back toward the immense structure below them.

Hebert started talking again, "So, given that keeping you on ice – pun intended – wouldn't be productive to the pursuit of Science," Sophia suppressed a shiver at hearing the capital letter; somehow, she had a feeling that what was about to happen was going to make her wish for a one-on-one fight with Lung. "The facility's administrator wants to see what you're really made of; hence, this… _Test_."

This time, Sophia _did_ shiver. Hebert's smile was _vicious_.

"Inside that backpack are your Shadow Stalker helmet, two weeks' worth of ration bars, a moisture condenser, an electric screwdriver, a bedroll, some experimental healing pills Panacea needs to test on living subjects-"

"Wha…?" Sophia felt her protests die when Hebert glared coldly at her. _Panacea_ was in on this?!

"-don't interrupt again, or you'll get a stronger shock- and, finally, a Mark-15 Collapsible Handheld Quantum Tunneling Device, with a user manual on how to use it and the white paint pellet gun. Also, the boots you're wearing will help you survive falls from high places, so you'll be able to jump from up here and land safely… well, _relatively_ safely, on the facility's upper deck." Indicating the cityscape with a finger, Hebert finished, "Your goal is to reenter the facility, navigate your way to Floor 27, complete the 12 Enrichment Center Puzzles that're there, and… then you'll be allowed to rest and mingle with your fellow prisoners. I understand Squealer's recovering nicely; that's her space rocket, by the way. Oh, and don't worry about being disintegrated by the security lasers, they've been told not to target you; if they shoot anyway, just tell them that you're going to complain to their manager and they should stop. Any questions?"

Sophia opened her mouth, several _dozen _questions on the tip of her tongue-

"Great. Good luck, Sophie. I'll tell Emma you said 'hi', next time I visit her in juvie." And, with a grin and a cheeky wave, Hebert vanished, the drone that'd been projecting the Tinker's hologram descending silently into the crater.

Leaving Sophia alone, on a windy glacier, with nothing but a bag of supplies and a pair of admittedly comfortable and good-looking boots for company.

After thirty seconds of disbelieving gaping and personal self-reflection, Sophia succinctly expressed her feelings on this most recent development in her life.

"**_GOD DAMNIT TO SHIT!_**" she screamed, about to fling the backpack into the crater; she stopped herself with a great amount of effort, snarled in frustration, then dug into its depths to retrieve her helmet. She'd show Hebert how strong she was, and how weak the fucking nerd was, and _then_…

**.**

**_Aperture Laboratories_**

**.**

GLaDOS opened and closed her hand, the pale synthetic flesh moving as easily as the real thing. She knew there were pistons and hydraulic lines activating with every twitch of thought, microscopic panels moving in her face to simulate expressions… yet, these sensations were mutable.

Her labcoat was… warm. The synthetic skin wrapping her chassis felt tingly. A breath – the inhalation spinning turbines in her body, assisting the micro-Arc Reactors in powering the android – there was _smell_, _taste_.

She opened her mouth, considered, then looked Taylor in the eye.

"Why does my chamber smell like pine air fresheners?"

Without missing a beat, the young Tinker grinned and replied, "Because Wheatley and I sprayed every surface in that scent, while your consciousness was copied into this body," smile falling away while Gladys chuckled and ran a hand over the wooden desk that was gifted to her by Dragon, Taylor then asked, "Any problems? Stiffness, loss of feeling?"

"Taylor, for nearly three decades, I've been unable to experience the feel of air on my skin except in memory," looking up, GLaDOS observed her "true" body, the 6-story-sized Central Core Module; the bottom part, where she was able to express herself, was folded into itself, inert until she decided to use it again, "Any sensation at all is better than what I had."

"Just… let me know if something goes wrong, okay?" the poor girl looked worried, how endearing.

"That shouldn't be for a long time yet. You've done good work, honestly," she held out an arm, adjusted her legs – clad in Antigrav-equipped Long-Fall Boots – then… Gladys spun in her office chair, cheering in a flat voice, "Wheeeeeeeee!"

Another few moments of Taylor laugher later, Sammie and Jess entered GLaDOS' chamber.

The Anger Core, while a girl, looked very boyish; the opposite of Sammie's bright cheeriness, Jess was constantly scowling, her short, spiky black hair and sharp gaze… well, it wasn't any surprise that Taylor, who was recovering from her ordeal steadily, gave the cantankerous Core the pet name-

"Hey there Sammie! Hi, Pointy McScowlypants!"

"Fuck off, Doctor Curlyhair," rejoined Jess, her scowl lessening very slightly as Sammie gave Taylor a hug; they were on good terms, partly because of Taylor's deeds in Old Aperture, and partly because Taylor was Sammie's best friend, "You ready to go? The ribbon cutting's in half an hour, and you know how your boyfriend gets about PR."

"Chris isn't my boyfriend!" lied Taylor, face turning red as Sammie gave her a flat look and Jess rolled her eyes; Gladys cleared her throat and snapped her fingers, bringing up multiple candid photos – courtesy Atlas and Pea, Taylor and Amelia's discrete bodyguards on Earth Bet – of Taylor and Chris having tender, private moments at Arcadia, only some of which involved Tinkering. The effect on Taylor was spectacular, her blush going nuclear while the two other Cores cackled, "GLADYS!"

Laughing lowly, GLaDOS stood up, "He's a nice boy, Taylor, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Make sure you don't overwhelm him; you _can_ be a force of Tinkering nature, when you set your mind to it," the girl mumbled to herself and scuffed the floor with her boots, which gave the Central Core a chance to speak to her actual daughters, "And girls, don't tease Taylor about her love life."

"But it's so _funny!"_ Jess grinned maliciously. Gladys decided to nip this in the bud, before Taylor became overly anxious, which might cause stage fright during her speech later.

"Hmm, why Jess, you have such an _interesting _Internet search history," Gladys idly stated, raising her hand to snap her fingers, Jess' face going from gleeful to mortified, "Let's see, ooh! Been looking up cape fanfics, have we? I wonder who you ship?"

**RADARADAGRRR: MUM, NO! D:**

**BeanBagBunnies: Mum, YES! :D**

**BellaDonna: Remember to be polite and not cause problems at the Aperture flagship store's grand opening, and I won't tell Taylor you ship her with Glory Girl.**

**RADARADAGRRR: …not my fault they're meant to be. :-(**

**BoxJockey: BLASPHEMY! Glory Girl x Tattletale OTP FTW!**

**RADARADAGRRR: FIGHT ME IRL, FGT!**

**BoxJocky: I WILL BURY YOU, n00b! :P**

**FactMachine: Brothers, sisters, calm. Everyone knows Regent x Tattletale is the one true OTP.**

**FunkyThinkin: Lies. Lies and slander. Dragon/Armsmaster is the best pairing, mostly because it's _true_.**

**MrTenHUT: Pssh, Panacea x Parian FTW!**

**AmyZING_Freckles: You know I can see all this, right?**

**RADARADAGRRR: Great, now Taylor's gonna know before the day is out!**

**BellaDonna: Not if you behave yourself. Are you going to be nice while in the Bay, or will Taylor have to see what you've been writing about her?**

**SpaceCop: "Tenderly, Glory Girl looked into Spelunker's sparkling emerald eyes. To herself, the blonde admitted she could get lost in that gaze, drown in it, without regrets. Their lips brushed and pressed, becoming more and more heated beneath Arcadia's bleachers, and, with provocative shame coursing through her bloodstream, the belle of New Wave began to wish to drown in another part of her lover's anatomy…" wow, sis, that's… wow.**

**RADARADAGRRR: :O NEIL! STOP!**

**BoxJockey: O**

**AmyZING_Freckles: Woof, that's one steamy clambake, Jess ;-)**

**FunkyThinkin: Do we need to replace our CPU coolant systems, because it's getting a little warm in here!**

**BeanBagBunnies: Oh my~, how lewd! ^.^**

"I'll be good." Jess said in GLaDOS' chamber, face stony and expressionless. Sammie giggled while Taylor glanced between her best friend, the Anger Core, and Gladys' smug face.

"Off with you, then, girls. We all have work to do," smiled Gladys; Jess slouched off grumpily, Sammie waved and skipped after her sister, and Taylor started to follow with a smile, only to stop.

Then the Tinker girl turned around, darted at Gladys, and… _hugged her_.

"Thanks, Doctor Emerson," whispered Taylor sincerely, "Thanks for believing in me."

Getting over the shock of being hugged for the first time in decades, Gladys returned the gesture, whispering back, "You believed in yourself, Taylor. That's why you succeed. Now go. Your adoring public awaits."

Stepping back and drying her eyes, the teen gave GLaDOS the biggest smile and cheered, "For Science!" and ran after Sammie and Jess, both of whom repeated the cheer and joined Taylor in running down a hardlight bridge, heading for the Earth Bet access point.

"For Science…" Gladys said quietly, closing the outer panels of her chamber; sitting back in her desk, she mentally ran though her usual duties. The newer Dragon-tech processors made this task even faster than her already-impressive speed. In just three seconds, Aperture's Chief Administrator was done with all of her company-mandated duties; she wouldn't need to check on the reactors or Manufacturing for the next half hour, unless something came up.

Feeling bored, Gladys brought up her feeds of the various Parahumans that'd been interred at Aperture since that fateful day.

Sophia Hess was still making her way into Aperture proper; currently, the former Ward was 2 days into her journey, and was currently trying to puzzle her way through the solar farms' underworks. It was a hot area, but the girl wasn't complaining. Examining her face, Gladys determined that she was driven; but by the desire to succeed, or vengeance on Taylor… that remained to be seen.

Personally, GLaDOS couldn't wait until Ms. Hess ran into her first Bunny Turret, but that was still a kilometer away.

Looking elsewhere, she found Skidmark swearing at the walls of the Level 2 Test she'd assigned him that morning. He was still in the first Test Chamber, having not even tried to solve the simple introductory Test in favor of hurling invective at everything around him… and defecating in a corner… well.

"The Enrichment Center thanks you for your critique, and reminds you that this Test is Involuntary," GLaDOS' synthetic voice was projected into the Test chamber, not that Skidmark cared, as he just kept making demands, "The Enrichment Center reminds you that failure to complete the Test will result in the Involuntary Test Subject being subjected to Involuntary Biologic Testing, where you will be experimented on to find out of a human being can be transfigured into a pig. We hope that it will not come to this, of course, and no, you don't have any say in the matter. Thank you, and enjoy the wonderful Tests we've arranged for you!"

He kicked the wall, used an incoherent jumble of swear words, and picked up the Storage Cube.

Looking over the others – Hookwolf, Squealer, and Cricket – showed that they were each performing their Tests with grudging acceptance, though at least Squealer seemed to be enjoying herself, as her Tests involved constructing transports out of provided materials.

Sighing, Gladys made sure there were no crises or issues that needed her attention… and opened a drawer, withdrawing two items.

One was the slagged remains of the thumb drive Taylor used to trap and kill Osiris, immortalized in a cube of 3D-printed synthetic quartz crystal. Examining it from multiple angles, Gladys' lip quirked as she toyed with the idea of shattering it with a hydraulic press… then she set it on the table, saying bitterly, "All the powers of Old Aperture, and now your only use is as a third-rate paperweight."

The other item… was even more precious: a folded sheet of paper, stained with tears, grease, and blood. Unfolding it, she read it again in a nanosecond…

"…apology accepted, Doug."

She crumpled up the paper, then tossed it into the bin next to her desk, the hole leading to the incinerator.

Making a hand gesture, a holographic screen popped up in front of Gladys; navigating the Aperture Mainframe, she found the file titled "SPELUNKER INCIDENT" and opened it to its concluding notes. For three minutes, a rarity for her, GLaDOS cast her mind about, wondering what she could say, to immortalize her feelings, that future generations might understand…

Ah, there it was.

Smiling, Doctor Gladys Emerson, GLaDOS, tapped the edge of her desk; a microphone popped up from a hidden panel, along with a notification that notes would be speech-to-text, and, with one more breath, she spoke.

"_This was a triumph…_"

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**THE END**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**That's all folks!**

**It's been a long, wild journey, but here we are, at the natural end of the story! Now, I know, odd place to end it, but here's my reasoning:**

**This story is as long as it needs to be.**

**The baddie's been beaten, the cake has been eaten, and the Taylor is healin'. This is a good stopping point; going any further is just... ****unnecessary.**

**Not to say there won't be more someday; maybe I'll feel the itch and write up an omake. There might even be a sequel someday, who knows?**

**But for now... it's been fun. Don't come back~ (unless you want to, of course).**

**This is Baked the Author, signing off!**


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